On the first day of my two week vacation I fucked my knee in a disgusting manner at the Passion Pit show, rendering me limping and pathetic. Two days later, I left for an 11 day road trip, with Coachella on the schedule. I could only use one leg, I fucking gave up on the crutches and I apparently thought spending a music festival with my ex-boyfriend and his girlfriend made absolute and perfect sense. So instead of spending my time dancing and drunk and delirious with excitement, I threw myself an extended pity party of porta-potty breakdowns. I basically spent all of my money on a vacation I barely tolerated.
I got home from this disaster on Sunday at 6 AM after a twenty hour drive. Relieved to smell my stupid candles and be in my own space, I stripped down and crawled into bed. Except I wasn’t the only thing crawling in there. Somehow, in my absence, bed bugs went fucking WILD in my apartment, and they were starving. And I was naked. And I don’t know if I will ever sleep without pajamas ever again.
Now I’m couch-surfing, obviously. Yesterday I decided to skytrain home to my parents’ place for the night. I brushed through my hair after getting off at Scott Road Station when I realized there was snot in my hair. There was actually Scott Road Station snot in my hair. Someone else had sneezed their blood and mucuous onto my hair, and that’s when I realized that is what this month has been about; fucking stranger snot in my hair.
I need a tissue for this month. And maybe some bug proof pajamas.
There are few things that render me more hysterical than someone speaking gibberish with an earnest intensity. Matty in his undies with a teal throw blanket on his head, drunkenly yammering about being the “biblical Mary” is one of my favourite memories. The now lost page of transcribed mutterings from that night also included some discussion of Matty being the “sayer for the buildings” which I believe played into an extended conceit wherein structures had a some kind of ethical code of which Derek was not a part.
Anyway, for this reason, I have been laughing at Sleep Talkin’ Man for like, an hour. Except he tends to make more sense.
"I was feeling extra predatory that night and exceptionally proud because I bagged a babe. Turns out he was into thick legs and tights, so I didn’t really accomplish anything except carry weight in my thighs."