If / Then

I was the still one
sitting quietly
Bench-perched
Alone but not lonely.

Your smile was brilliant
You poured it over me like warm honey and
I wanted to consume you
I wanted to eat you whole
right there
in the lobby.

You are
sex and sushi
tattoos and croissants
weed/caffeine/cigarettes
books and Perl and porn and
the Internet.

That is your algorithm.

Praise the Lord and pass the ammunition

Everyone's talking about it, so I won't bother with a lengthy regurgitation.

The Tory margin was smaller than many expected, which can be directly attributed to ass-puckering fear at the ballot box. Harper will run a watertight government until he decides to pull the plug and orchestrate another election while the Liberals are still floundering in post-Martin disarray. He'll decimate them. I give it a year.

Paul Martin did a surprisingly honourable thing last night by announcing his resignation as Leader - I'm not sure that many of his supporters were expecting it, but it was the right thing to do. It was the only thing to do, as a matter of fact. It's going to be a torturous Leadership race for the Grits while Paul Martin sails into the sunset under a Liberian flag (merci, Dr. J!), cackling madly while wiping his arse with wads of hundred-dollar bills.

The Bloc went down. There is simply not enough of an appetite for another referendum. Duceppe took it well, delivering a fiery, near-militant speech the likes of which we haven't heard in quite some time. We haven't seen the last of him.

The NDP did well, as expected. They are still everyone's best friend. They'll whore themselves out to the government in exchange for writing the next Budget and all will be love, peace and s'mores. On a personal note, it was intensely gratifying to see Paul Dewar kick Richard Mahoney's ass in Ottawa Centre. Buh-bye, you big frigging loser.

I spent the evening with my political junky friends, hurling insults and slanderous jibes at the many TVs and laptops strewn around the well-appointed living room of a certain residence in the Lees area. There was wine. There was cheese. There was a taco platter, the contents of which I could have easily consumed by myself, had I been alone. There was also a rousing (if slightly slurred) rendition of 'Afternoon Delight' on the back patio for which I can not be held accountable. Thanks to the hosts for doing the voodoo that they do so well, as well as to all the sexy bitches who drank, swore and pretended that they didn't notice me eating all the Mexican dip.

Good times.

Bring out your dead!

It's Election Day, which to me is the equivalent of combining Chrismukkah/Kwanzaa, St. Paddy's Day, the May Two-Four long weekend and my birthday into one glorious, spite-filled, booze-soaked Day of Goodness.

The Paul Martin sleaze machine will be brought to the grinding, humiliating halt we've all been predicting for years. Note to The Board: You are MORONS. You deserve to lose.

The Liberal Party will get the enema (sans lube) it so desperately needs. I want my Party back, dammit!

Canada will have a Conservative government. Say what you want about them - they can't do much worse than Team Martin (those words will continue to make me throw up in my mouth for a long, long time). My advice to voters? Hold your nose and swallow quickly. You'll barely notice the taste.

Tonight, I'll be glued to the results with The Best Friend, His 'Other' and the rest of the sexy-ass political animals that comprise my peeps. Hot politics and cold vodka. There is no other way.

I'm off to my local polling station. Get yourselves out there and VOTE. I'll leave you with this inspirational tidbit from another oh-so-quotable Conservative leader:

"We've climbed the mighty mountain. I see the valley below, and it's a valley of peace. "

- George W. Bush

(insert diabolical laughter here)

The webs we weave

"You have been my friend. That in itself is a tremendous thing. I wove my webs for you because I liked you. After all, what's a life, anyway? We're born, we live a little while, we die. A spider's life can't help being something of a mess, with all this trapping and eating flies. By helping you, perhaps I was trying to lift up my life a trifle. Heaven knows anyone's life can stand a little of that."

- Charlotte, from 'Charlotte's Web' by E.B. White

I am unbelievably fortunate in my family and friends.
Thank you to the beautiful people in my life who listen, talk, or are just 'there'.

La douleur exquise

And so it is
Just like you said it would be
Life goes easy on me
Most of the time
And so it is
The shorter story
No love, no glory
No hero in her sky

Can't take my eyes off of you
I can't take my eyes off you
I can't take my eyes off of you
I can't take my eyes off you...

And so it is
Just like you said it should be
We'll both forget the breeze
Most of the time
And so it is
The colder water
The blower's daughter
The pupil in denial

Can't take my eyes off of you
I can't take my eyes off you
I can't take my eyes off of you
I can't take my eyes off you...

Did I say that I loathe you?
Did I say that I want to leave it all behind?

Can't take my eyes off of you
I can't take my eyes off you
I can't take my eyes off of you
I can't take my eyes off you...

('The Blower's Daughter', by Damien Rice)

Basic instinct

Where do you go when your heart leads but your head is too scared to follow?

It's survival instinct. Fight or flight. There is quicksand between the two. There is no middle ground, no safe zone. The harder you struggle, the further you become mired. Survival handbooks state that the way to get out alive is to stop struggling, stop fighting it. Stay calm. Don't move. Someone will come to your rescue.

But what if nobody is there? What if, after an eternity of sitting quietly, waiting for salvation, you realize that nobody is coming? Shouted pleas dull to hoarse whispers. Whispers become whimpers and fade to stunned silence. Night falls. The darkness swallows your frightened noises but offers no solace. Nobody is listening.

'Forever' does not exist. It is a fiction, a fairytale. 'Forever' is the space between one heartbeat and the next; it is fleeting, transient. It is a tempting myth, red and round and alluring like a ripe apple - we crave it as a means to assauge our human hungers, but beneath the perfumed skin lies galling, poisonous flesh. The taut, shiny exterior belies the rotting core. 'Forever' is a bitter fruit best left unplucked.

Help

I want more than anything to know what I want. I want to be the one whose actions match the confidence of my words and the image I try to portray. I want to be honest. I want a happy life. I want to be loved as much as I love.

I don't want to be scared. I don't want to be angry, jealous, doubtful or bitter. I don't want to fear the future. I don't want money to matter. I don't want to be a convenient solution for someone. I don't want to be an emotional landfill for others for the rest of my life.

My tears are quiet.

I am so tired.

The heart of the matter

The human heart is an organ of exceeding delicacy. Yes, it's a big lump of hard-working muscle (probably wouldn't be too tasty on the eating side), but I'm talking about emotions here. Feelings. We know that emotions are essentially a series of chemical reactions which emanate from the brain. Why, then, does the heart feel hurt by emotional upheaval? That tightness, that ache...where does it come from? Why does it hurt so fucking much?

Meat eaters

I love meat. Hunks of barely charred animal flesh, drowning in luxurious lagoons of their own velvety vital fluids. I am reduced to a slavering animal by my "meat moods." I can't get enough flesh...it's perverted, like I'm some sort of sex fiend. The thought of sinking my teeth into a dripping, squirting morsel of recently alive muscle tissue is enough to make me growl like a lioness over a freshly disembowelled gazelle. My mouth is filling with saliva as I write.

I am going out for steak with The Best Friend tonight. With him, I have no shame. He knows that this is what I have to do.

Vestigal, schmestigal - our teeth are pointy for a reason.

Rrrrrrrrrowrrrrr.

Shots fired!

Last night's second-round English debate was fun. The format was far more engaging and conducive to actual "debate". Steve Paiken of TVO did a fantastic job as moderator, asking tough, intelligent questions and poking/prodding the candidates in all the right places.

The clear winner of the evening was Stephen Harper. I hate to overuse this phrase, (Blog Parrot Syndrome, or BPS, is a problem when everyone is talking about the same thing), but Mr. Harper was looking and sounding VERY Prime Ministerial last night. He didn't rise to repeated (read: desperate) challenges issued by Martin (ie. patriotism, Notwithstanding Clause, etc). He simply shrugged them off with an air of "I don't have time for your petty mudslinging and over-the-top emotional grandstanding. Here are the facts, Canada..." Harper was completely on message all night: Liberal scandal(s)? Check. Liberal arrogance? Yessir. Liberal dishonesty? Can I get an AMEN??? He tore Martin apart on gun control/crime fighting, coming across like a very determined LEADER who is dead serious about cleaning up the streets. He managed to sidestep becoming embroiled in the unity issue in a way that didn't seem evasive - he simply let Duceppe and Martin go at it in the corner. Oh, and he has also minimized his trademark smarmy smirk, which might make it easier for Canadians to buy what he's selling. At the end of the night, the strength of Harper's performance lay in the ease with which he responded to the questions and the comfort and confidence he radiated at the podium. If you're looking for a "knock-out blow" (gah! BPS!!), I'd say that was it.

I won't go into a huge post-mortem on our current Prime Minister's performance last night, suffice it to say that the term "post-mortem" has rarely been more appropriately employed.
Martin was, again, painful to watch. He still cannot choke out a coherent, meaningful response to any issue without gratuitous use of the words "basically", "fundamentally" or "very, very important". He flaps. He flails. He stutters and stammers. He jibbers and jabbers. You've heard me go on about this before, so I won't belabour the point. On actual issues, Martin came up pretty much empty-handed. His repeated and childish efforts to trip Harper via flamboyant Charter challenges and patriotic provocations were slapped down effortlessly, leaving him looking like a total eunuch. And my God, the scandals. The scandals. Are killing. Paul Martin. His credibility is in tatters, now an open joke amongst the other Leaders. They were literally laughing at him. That ain't good on national television. All that was left for him last night was a ride on the unity train...and something tells me that that train has already left the station.

Jack Layton. Not much to say that hasn't already been said, although his continued reference to the "3rd option" and his reluctance to sell the NDP as a Party that could form a government was disappointing. A lot more people are going to vote for the Dippers this time around. They are going to see gains in lots of areas, maybe even Quebec (home of the social justice platform). This is when a Leader should ramp up the team rhetoric and make people believe that their vote will deliver their Party from the ignominy of the backbenches. It was a missed opportunity on Jack's part last night. That being said, he still delivered a solid - if not slightly grim - performance, as he has in all previous debates. His sorrowful countenance as he scolded Martin for his patent dishonesty and shocking inability to govern was as satisfying to watch as a big plate of ESD mac and cheese is to eat. Speaking of fromage, though, the way he begs the players to sit down again at the unity table is kind of funny. You can almost smell the S'mores roasting from here...

Gilles Duceppe was on fire again last night. I don't get tired of hearing the man speak in either language. There were a couple of times when he seemed to waver, but I rack it up to language issues - he always manages to get back on message. His open disgust over the "Liberal scandals" moved me to the point where I could feel my lip curling in a mirror-image snarl when he had Martin up against the ropes with "Exactly HOW many RCMP investigations are being conducted within your government?" Ouch. He is utterly unintimidated by his opponents because he doesn't give a shit which squarehead gets in, as long as he gets his referendum. That's just the way it is. And yeah, it's still tonnes of fun to watch he and Layton double-team Martin on social issues; it doesn't matter how you slice it, the Jack and Gilles Show is just plain old good times.

Ok, so can you tell that I enjoyed the show last night? It was by far the best of the campaign - I hope the same for the French debate tonight. Thanks to my 407 homies for comfy chairs, tasty treats and stimulating commentary...you are both Master Debaters. See you ce soir!

McPolitics

This weekend, I noticed a congealed puddle of puke outside of my usual morning coffee establishment. So revolting, so noisome was this heap of vomit semifreddo that not even the mangy flock of Elgin St. pigeons loitering in the area managed to rouse themselves to give it even the most cursory of pecks. At this stage of the game, the Liberal campaign can be likened to said lagoon of barf in that it: (a) stinks (b) is awful to look at, and, (c) is full of indigestible material in which nobody is interested.

The second round of Leader's "debates" airs tonight and the carnivore in me smells blood. Team Martin is hemorrhaging like a razor blade-licking hemophiliac. It would be painful to watch if the Team in question hadn't been responsible for the demise of the Liberal Party I used to know and love. They deserve to have their asses handed to them for running such a shoddy, amateur campaign. Tonight, our ill-fated PM should be riding the unity, same-sex and education issues. At this juncture, however, it seems unlikely that he will get traction on anything, plagued as he is by scandal du jour and rumoured mutiny amongst those closest to him. It is going to be nothing short of carnage tonight. The other three Leaders all have firm grips on the hammer that will certainly drive the final nail into the coffin of Team Liberal hopes for an Election Day victory.

I will be Debate Dating again tonight with my 407 Partner in Crime ("fraternizing", indeed!!) and his Trusty Sidekick (love to love him). Stay tuned for invective-laced debrief demain.

I heart love.

I love to see people I love in love. There is something divinely scrumptious about seeing someone who means the world to you in the throes of amour.

It's better than a ten-dollar banana split. It's better than the corner slice of cake with all the icing. It's better than pizza with gravy.

You make me smile my best smile.