bananafoot

fuck the economy, i’m battling depression

bananafoot — Fri, 25 Mar 2011 01:40:15 +0000

I cannot afford to smoke, drink, or go out for coffee. I cannot afford to rent a movie, buy paints or brushes. I can’t afford to replace my computer, my camera or fix my teeth. I cannot afford to buy a car or go to school, or travel. I cannot afford to become the person I want to be… I can’t afford to be happy and so I’m feeling hopeless and depressed. I cannot afford to stay here, and so what? I pack my things and return to the bush?

This isn’t working! Even if I get into school it will be completely impractical! I need money, not debt. I understand that I will be a slave to debt till I die, but I need a good job so I can buy a house, on my own. I want to be alone.

It seems that every time I start to get ahead stupid shit gets in the way. All the unexpected expenses are getting outrageous. Why have many items of food doubled in price this last year? I don’t have the luxury of even having a plot of land to grow fucking potatoes! I really truly hate my life.

I haven’t smoked in 3 days and I haven’t eaten in two and I have an undetermined infection causing nausea, vomiting, serious pain when I urinate and aching stomach and in general. It doesn’t help that I keep bawling and no one can make me feel any better.

I’m looking into cybf.ca for help. I know being proactive about my ‘woah is me’-style situation is the best solution. Now I nap/sleep

save this shit

bananafoot — Wed, 02 Mar 2011 07:04:13 +0000

Had to restart my phone using the battery pull technique before I could save the nice little rant I wrote. Damn BlackBerry! Probably all for the best. I vented, but I’m still in a position of waiting. I’ll write this again, though condensed and hopefully minus a few expletives.

It’s important to note that even a 6 hour flight to Mexico with ALL the leg room in the world nearly ruined the trip for me. I hate being confined in a small space with no control over my surroundings. You know, temperature, stopping when I want, not sharing my space with people with poor hygiene/lack of teeth, or cats in their coat… that kind of thing.

So I boarded the bus last night at 8:45pm, we did about three laps of the city when it was announced that the transmission was stuck in first. And so we returned to the depot, returned to the waiting room where we waited. At 10:30 we boarded the replacement bus and had a relatively uneventful time until we arrived three hours late at 10am in Edmonton. I was actually pleased with this. Less layover I thought.

I wasn’t really enjoying the depot. I have been harassed for money or smokes at least every ten minutes since I’ve arrived. This continued at the mall, but I’ll get back to that. When I went outside for my “finally off the bus” smoke I was bombarded by a man and his two sons with requests for smokes and money. The one son asked me if I was a boy or girl. I said boy, and he assured me he wasn’t being rude, just curious. It got me thinking about gender and how it influences the way people interact. It’s fascinating!

I wasn’t too sure who all I know in town with one major exception. And so I called up my dearest Nikko and we went for lunch at a restaurant much like Noodle Box, but with better selection and a television for every seat in the restaurant. Maybe not quite that many, but a truly inappropriate amount regardless. It was quite nice catching up and stuffing our pretty lil’ mouths; her’s a brilliant shade of purple, mine chapped from the dry freezing recycled bus air. After we finished she had work and so I made my way to the mall.

I purchased a coffee from Second Cup which was probably as close to the temperature of the surface of the sun as an Americano can get. Even with a sleeve I was using my coat sleeve as an extra element of protection. This is only mildly relevant. Maybe 10 minutes later I was on the escalator heading up to Coles. Ahead of me were three rather corpulent people. As they got off the escalator it sped up causing me to loose my balance and my grip and my coffee fell everywhere. I’m sure I smell like coffee, but it’s probably exasperated because I haven’t been without one in hand all day. I figure it’s all for the best, I certainly didn’t want to be that asshole tempting fate in a bookstore. I found nothing of interest though and made my way to Winners. Did you know they sell discounted cologne?

Funny conversation I heard passing two women in the mall:

“Did you have it done?”

“What? A colonoscopy?”

“No. LASIK.”

I wasted enough time that returning to the depot was a logical idea. I inquired about which gate I should be waiting at just to get slapped in the mouth with the giant dick of a 14 ton Greyhound.

My bus cancelled.

Next bus in 9 hours 45 minutes.

And so I returned to the mall and looked for reading material. I found it in the form of two books of The Walking Dead I have not yet read. Then I got anxious and returned again to the depot where I’ve read and played games on my phone and made lists and started writing this. The bus is still an hour and away and I can hardly think let alone stay awake.

The depot has been a wonderment of activity today. Domestic violence, death threats, drunk men passed out in the bathroom, on the benches, at the A&W, a bitch got maced! The place has been ALIVE with the scum of the earth… And sirens, cops, and flashing lights…

on the bus

bananafoot — Tue, 01 Mar 2011 11:56:36 +0000

While it was an overall success, my stint in Peeg was truly not long enough. While applying to school was much more time consuming and difficult than I expected, I have learned one very important life lesson from Star Wars. If something scares you and you go about it the easy way, your bitch is gonna die giving birth to the children who will be responsible for your ruin and while you will temporarily be the strongest person in the universe you will also be hideously deformed and have James Earl Jones’ voice… Simply awful.

I did though get everything sent off, and now I can get used to compulsively checking my e-mail. I had been trying to balance having a project with a very serious deadline with spending time with my no longer so serious boyfriend. The day I finished sending everything in, boyfriend expressed no longer wanting to be my boyfriend. After probing I understand where he’s coming from and forgive him because he’s young, dumb, and pretty damn cute and sweet most of the time.

What I gather is that the time I’m away I cannot satisfy him sexually, and when I am around I have no desire to satisfy his Hallmark notions of what a relationship is. He wants to call us “friends” to make it less hard when I’m away. So that maybe years from now when I’m done school and he’s probably still not doing much of anything, things could pick up how they ended… On a good note.

Now I don’t pretend to ever know where the boyfriend is coming from, but all I do know is that this comes across as an excuse for him to sleep with whoever he wants and potentially start dating someone new. This is the dominating thought that I can’t shake. He says he loves me and I smell for semen on his breath.

No joke.

Anyways, I got really sick the moment I finished my application, and he was a sweetheart nursing me back to health. I didn’t see anyone I had intended to, and now I’m on the bus back to work. An hour and a half delay, we’re in the Mountains… No signal… Jasper…

I quit smoking… for about 48 hours…mmhmm

bananafoot — Wed, 16 Feb 2011 03:38:25 +0000

Yesterday was a day I won’t soon forget. It was Valintines, but I didn’t get to spend more than a few text messages with mine. I woke up quite dehydrated, craving cigarette, to the sound of my phone ringing. Didn’t answer in time and so I listened to the voicemail, drank some water, grabbed some food sticks and got in the truck. We arrived in Olds before noon. I found my way to where I needed to be, to find myself being bombarded with bad news.

It was noon, and I was grumpy, annoyed, perhaps depressed? Went to the library, and that’s when my day got fucked up and hilarious.

As soon as I walked into the library I made my way to the bathroom, where when washing my hands a man walked in. He looked at me, stopped dead in his tracks, walked out and looked at the sign. He stared at me for a few seconds, so I said, “you’re in the right one.” He said, “Oh! Sorry!”

I went to look up my school requirements but all the computers were in use. I sat down at a table and tried to use the terrible internet on my phone. A very large woman came up to me and asked, “Are you a boy or a girl?” I said, “What the fuck do you think?” She said nothing and stood by me for an uncomfortably long time. She eventually walked away, slowly, pausing every few steps. I finally looked up at who I was trying to ignore. It was a woman with Down’s Syndrome… I felt awful! Her sad little eyes staring at me two tables down.

I decided I was in the wrong, put my phone down, and walked over. She was breathing heavily and looked like her head was about to explode into a tear filled Chernobyl style disaster. I said, “I’m a boy, and I’ve just quit smoking and it’s made me an angry person. I am sorry for snapping at you.”
She didn’t respond till she got her breathing under control and said, “Smoking is bad for you.”
I said, “I know, that’s why I quit.

There was an uncomfortable lull, and so I smiled and went back to my table and started writing down the information I needed. She came back over and stood uncomfortably close. I looked up and she was smiling and staring. She said, “You have pretty hair.”

I said, “Thank you, I like your sweater.” This was more or less a lie. It was amusing, because it was Nascar, but therefore was also hideous. She continued to smile and then started giggling and asked me, “Do you wanna be my boyfriend?”

I started to feel my face flush, and was trying to think of what to say that wouldn’t hurt her feelings.”I’m not from here. I am just here for work and then I’m going back home.”
“I could come with you… I just have to tell my mom first.”
I was getting pretty irritated and decided that the truth couldn’t hurt in this situation so I said, “I actually have a boyfriend back home.”

She looked pretty dejected and stepped back(thank god) and started mumbling and looking around, and then quietly said, “faggot.”
Then she screamed it!

I was shocked and a bit embarrassed and started looking around for any sign of a care giver/beast handler, but didn’t see anyone who seemed to fit the bill. And so I asked her, “Please leave me alone, you are being very rude.”

She kept saying faggot and walked away. I was hoping this interaction was over and was praying it would start raining cigarettes, unfortunately neither were so.

A few minutes went by and one of the librarians came up to me and said that “Daphne” had said I had been rude to her, and that they would appreciate it if I packed up my things and left.

I was considering it but then decided that this was the time to stand up for myself! And so I said, “Did you not hear her just scream ‘faggot’ at me? She asked me to be her boyfriend, I tried to let her down easy, but that didn’t work so I told her that I have a boyfriend, and she got quite offensive. She has been rude and I want an apology.”

Daphne was standing behind the nearest shelves and looked and sounded like she was about to hurt someone, and so I asked quietly if I should go and come back later? Or am I banned or something?

The librarian said that it was in my best interest to avoid Daphne as she’s just a bit off. She squeezed my hand and winked and then went over to distract Daphne while I made my escape.

And escape I did… To the nearest convenience store where I was reunited with my precious Belmonts

Frankly…

bananafoot — Wed, 24 Nov 2010 02:24:24 +0000

Today I got a phone call from a client named Frank, from Toronto. He asked where I was, I said, “Prince George”. He told me he’s in Florida and will be till March. He wants to see me when he gets back, and wanted to know when I’d be back out east. I said that I wouldn’t be until next fall. Then he asked how work was going, and I explained that it’s not going well, as in, not at all. He then suggested I move to Toronto and find work out there… See what I’m getting at?

My life has been reduced to nothing.

Please Forgive Me. I’m A Little Bit Drunk

bananafoot — Sat, 16 Oct 2010 11:44:45 +0000

So it’s pushing 5am and I am awake as I slept most of the day after keeping myself awake all the night previous convincing myself I am dying. This perhaps could still be the case, but as it stands, I’m drinking wine and making soup, and feeling pretty good about it. What I’m not feeling good about is that I am surely ill. I have either bronchitis or pneumonia and possibly a staph infection. I’ll tell you more about it some time. But what has me feeling worse is my new potential employment. Apparently starting wage is 10.26 per hour at this establishment. I’m serving and potentially bartending from time to time, but it’s for a Hotel, and I have never tipped Hotel staff, that therefore don’t expect I will be tipped. The job is customer service, and I no longer think I can be paid wage enough to deal with people.

Even if I get full time of 40 hours a week, which is expected, I will earn less than I do on EI. I need to earn at least 11.50/h to match what I make on EI. Now I know what you’re thinking, what a bum, milking EI, and to that I say FUCK YOU! I work harder than your food transporting ass can even fathom for 9 months of the year. What I don’t understand, is that to make the money I do in the forest industry, I need to have some sort of professional career. Now that would be lovely, but I must pay for school, and pay my dues and blah blah blah. The thing is, I am not a forestry outdoors type. That’s not true, I am, but on my own terms. YEY CAMPING/HIKING/NATURE WALKS! I don’t want to spend my prime years away from civilization fucking around with trees in ridiculous weather.

The nature of my work is interesting, but I would rather be sitting on my patio people watching drinking coffee fucking around on my laptop while looking good. Not being sun or wind burnt while sweating or freezing my ass off while repeating an antisocial painful and often crippling task all day every day for months on end. It’s like being a factory worker but the factory is all of BC and Alberta. How can I make the same money I do out there but not be out there? I have an idea, but it’s a scary prospect. I drop everything, and move to Montreal. I know what you’re thinking. Montreal? But you live in BC, with pretty Vancouver, the most beautiful place in the country! MAYBE EVEN THE WORLD!

I know it’s hard to hear, especially the first time. I hate Vancouver. I pretty much hate most of BC. I live in Canada’s Detroit for Christ’s sake! Since traveling to Montreal and Toronto, I can’t stand how slow everything is, how quiet and depressing it is, how little there is to do, and how much the people suck. Yes, fuck you Vancouver. Suck my dick!… but don’t. I only let people I like do that.

Anyway, the plan is move to Montreal, start bartending, and sell my skinny white ass whenever papa wants a new bag. And papa wants many new bags… and various other things. Please consult my tumblr. It’s loaded with ideas of what you can get me for Christmas and birthdays, and everyday surprises. I love surprises. (Surprises in this case is code for gifts… and I also like money.) The plan is to go to school in Montreal. Enjoy Concordia and my life in general a little more. That isn’t to say I don’t love my life. I do. I love my life more than I’ve ever loved my life in my whole damned life! But now I’m better learning what I like and what I want and what I need. The strange thing is that as soon as I get out of the woods, I know I’m going to miss them.

Soups done!

I’m probably going to regret this…

bananafoot — Wed, 15 Sep 2010 17:56:43 +0000

I’m two weeks in now and my love of Montreal has only grown. I’ve seen the nitty gritty and the charms, and weighing it all out, Montreal wants Paul.

I’m still here and I’m missing it. I’ve met wonderful beautiful people and reconnected with long lost loves. The beauty is everywhere. The boys, the girls, the gender non-specific. I’m thrilled with the garbage between all the old and new. This place is it’s own brand of Canada and I will regret leaving.

One more year of work; surveying, beetle probing, fall and burn, and cone picking will tide me over to tree planting, and then I’ll install myself at Concordia in Montreal indefinitely.

J’aime Montreal

These the New Days of Old Prince George

bananafoot — Wed, 12 Aug 2009 07:30:02 +0000

I’m working through the funk and boredom of being back here. Though I’m still sleeping odd hours; 4 here, 4 there; I’m grasping for vices less often: smoking, chewing gum, processed food, sugar, drinking, etc… Maybe this isn’t true… but I really have no worries or reasons to be stressed, because everything seems to be working out just fine. I do however need a job, to cure both perceived and actual lack of funds.

Life has been slightly interesting though lately.

I watched Julie & Julia. Will someone please inform me when it comes out on DVD. I need Meryl Streep screaming “Paul” repeatedly as my answering machine.

I was treated to Homemade Cream of Broccoli soup for lunch and Homemade Chili for dinner.

I had a 16 year old tell me I wasn’t 18 in response to my request for cigarettes. Good thing she knows the legal age, and I had my ID.

I enjoyed a good old fashioned sharpie fight, fire throwing competition, and a midnight Timmies coffee run.

I saw my first welcome back to PG robbery last night at Blockbuster. Employees got a bit banged up, and the perpetrator got away with almost all of his loot. We rented Dirty Love and Grey Gardens, and watched them after a field trip to the park.

We wished on stars as it was the Perseid meteor shower… Which reminds me. I was published in the local newspaper. My photos of the northern lights. They didn’t translate to newspaper very well, but perhaps I will scan it and put it up here anyways…

The summer seems to be over. No sun, plenty rain, and seeing breath at night…

…why am I back here?

back again

bananafoot — Tue, 11 Aug 2009 00:01:25 +0000

Okay,

It’s been a while since I’ve blogged. But in all fairness, my life has been a little too busy to bother. It hasn’t necessarily been the most exciting life, but who the fuck blogs when they’re still in the middle of the action? Blogging, is for the bored, the single, and the depressed.

As it would happen I am bored, single and even a little depressed. I can’t stop listening to my boys Murray Head and Gerry Rafferty. It rained all day. It started Sunday evening, and though it was beautiful to begin with, perhaps even dangerous (good old weather network extreme weather warnings); it’s become cold, blue depression. Yes, I’m back in Prince George after months of tree planting and quite the stint in Victoria. I miss my life there, before I was me, before they became they, and those who are, intruded. I arrived at 155 pounds, and left at 133. How many lines, pills and drops does it take to inflict permanent damage?

完ぺきな男. I am not

I am separated from all that makes me feel good and alive. People, places, things. Which has made me waste countless hours pondering about such things as, “What is love?”

This question brought me to the following philosophical examination by Jacques Derrida On Love and Being:

“Love is a question of who and what. Is love the love of someone or the love of something?

Suppose I love someone, do I love someone for the absolute singularity of who they are? I love you because you are you. Or do I love your qualities, your beauty, your intelligence?

Does one love someone, or does one love something about someone? The difference between the who and the what at the heart of love, separates the heart. It is often said that love is the movement of the heart. Does my heart move because I love someone who is an absolute singularity, or because I love the way that someone is?

Often love begins with a type of seduction. One is attracted because the other is like this or like that. Inversely, love is disappointed and dies when one comes to realise the other person doesn’t merit our love. The other person isn’t like this or that. So at the death of love, it appears that one stops loving another not because of who they are but because they are such and such.

That is to say, the history of love, the heart of love, is divided between the who and the what. The question of Being is divided into what is it ‘to Be’? What is ‘Being’? The question of ‘Being’ is itself always already divided between who and what. Is ‘Being’ someone or something? I speak of it abstractly, but I think that whoever starts to love, is in love, or stops loving, is caught between this division of the who and the what. One wants to be true to someone – singularly, irreplaceably – and one perceives that this someone isn’t x or y. They didn’t have the qualities, properties, the images, that I thought I’d loved. So fidelity is threatened by the difference between the who and the what. “

I move into my new place on the 15th, which is pleasant. I have spent much time deciding on where I should settle for the next year. Prince George seems like a good hub. I have quick access by plane anywhere in the world, great job prospects outside the customer service world, and I should be able to save money with the cheaper cost of living and the inaccessibility of recreational drugs. There are drawbacks. Everyone I want to be around isn’t here, with three major exceptions. However even exceptions have conditions, and until I feel settled I will continue to have no idea why I am back here. It’s the right thing. Right?

I should have fun here. I won’t be able to party, offend, or deconstruct, so I should be able to create, digest, and mature. I’m young and narcissistic so I know that I will be fine…