January 02, 2006

If I were to sum up the previous year in one sentence then I would probably say that in 2005 I took off my pants with alarming regularity — and it was good. If I were to use actual paragraphs, then the story might go a little bit more like this …

January made me want to claw out my eyeballs and jab icicles into my ear canals. After one last, desperate conversation, Martha fled from my life and every single nerve in my body twitched in agony. I filled the following nights with bitterness and constant masturbation until I became stupid, cruel and set the past on fire. But even as flames consumed everything I cared for, I was moved by the wonderful strangers and friends who gave me flowers and touched my naked body with their own.

In February, between drunkenly drifting from one meeting to another, I met Laura for the first time. We spent a whole night fighting in parking lots and jabbering about everything. Our fingers lightly touched, and I felt desperate and beautiful as I threw myself at her like a thirsty animal. Somehow, I convinced her to get into her car and drift with me to Tobermory, the most desolate place I know. Once there, we spent our nights locked in embraces and our days peeing in the snow. We somehow managed not to get eaten by bears, but instead we found ways to quench loneliness.

I spent most of March learning how to be human again. Laura showed me how to knit and eat popcorn, and in return I showed her my friends’ apartments and the insides of 28 washrooms. At the end of March, spring surprised us and black monoliths littered the landscape, sad, forlorn creatures of an age we did not understand.

In April I learned about minimalist gods and genocide. I did so while wearing nothing but a pair of rubber boots as I searched for garbage in the river. Somewhere, a crow flew over my heat, causing a paralysing pain to develop in my left jaw. April was a puzzling month.

May started with naked celebrations of the Spanish independence. And after all that tenderness and duct tape, Laura and I ran to Elora to discover what mud looks like, her wearing her fancy shoes and complaining of headaches. She somehow forgave me for making her sprain her ankles, and for a while we felt free as we drifted from one city to another taking pictures: Mississauga, St. Jacobs, Grand Bend, Elora, everywhere.

June found us in a Toronto cafe awaiting the bus that would take us out of town. My throat was aching and my head was filled with acid rain. Upon returning back to Waterloo, I found a job that made me happy and decided not to graduate. I spent my days off either naked in sewage tunnels, or trying on Laura’s underwear.

And these were the first six months of the year, and they were good. More to come…