Top 10 Things I’ll Always Remember from Living at Winters Residence

1. That time the pipes stopped working in the building and we went two days without running water (including flushing toilets and showers – whaddup feces).

2. Every time my room mate got drunk.

3. All hang outs that have taken place at the Absinthe Pub.

4. That time we smoked a bowl in the quad because the weather was gorgeous and we were “ten feet away from the residence doors”.

5. The Potty Papers every month, thank you for giving me something to read while doing my business.

6. That time we unknowingly left the camera going, creating a twelve minute video of us stoned kids after Nuit Blanche.

7. The endless amounts of singing and instrument playing.

8. When my Don bought my friends and I two pitchers of beer for my birthday.

9. The cute boy on second floor who has hair like some Greek god.

10. JP and Will having rap battles in the quad at 2am almost every night.


Letters from Zedelghem, an excerpt from Cloud Atlas

“Eva. Because her name is a synonym for temptation: what treads nearer to the core of man? Because her soul swims in her eyes. Because I dream of creeping through the velvet folds to her room, where I let myself in, hum her a tune so-so-so softly, she stands with her naked feet on mine, her ear to my heart, and we waltz like string puppets. After that kiss, she says ‘Vous embrassez comme un poisson rouge!’ and in moonlit mirrors we fall in love with our youth and beauty. Because all my life, sophisticated, idiotic women have taken it upon themselves to understand me, to cure me, but Eva knows I’m terra incognita and explores me unhurriedly, like you did. Because she’s lean as a boy. Because her scent is almonds, meadow grass. Because if I smile at her ambition to be an Egyptologist, she kicks my shin under the table. Because she makes me think about something other than myself. Because even when serious she shines. Because she prefers travelogues to Sir Walter Scott, prefers Mayerl to Mozart, and couldn’t tell C major from a sergeant major. Because I, only I, see her smile a fraction before it reaches her face. Because Emperor Robert is not a good man – his best part is commandeered by his unperformed music – but she gives me that rarest smile, anyway. Because we listened to nightjars. Because her laughter spurts through a blowhole in the top of her head and sprays all over the morning. Because a man like me has no business with this substance ‘beauty,’ yet here she is, in these soundproofed chambers of my heart.




It’s dark in my kitchen because they’re calling for rain and the storm clouds are rolling in.

It may be the hangover talking but everybody is pissing the shit out of me today so I’m going to have to go with I’m hungover for $500 Alex.

I grabbed McDonald’s for dinner to go along with this pathetic day. Nothing says “This day is filled with five billion craps” more than a chicken nugget combo from McDonald’s.

I sort of like how dark it is outside. Reflects my mood.


Today I was driving in the car and a sappy Bruno Mars song came on and I actually enjoyed it. Which is strange, you know, considering I usually mock songs like that and the whole sappy love thing.

Sometimes I feel like I’m Hitch (like the movie with Will Smith).

I’ve recently hooked up my two pals, then hooked up my other two pals.

Ding ding ding!

Give me an arrow and call me Cupid because damn I’m good.

But I’ll never do the same thing for myself.

Maybe it’s because I look for the same feeling I had before and the moment I meet a guy I expect that to happen. I refuse to give people chances and, call me a jerk, but it’s who I am. If you can’t swoon me within the first couple minutes of our conversation then count me out señor. Especially if you’ve tried to start a conversation with me the first time ever via text message or Facebook.

But there’s this dude and he’s fantastic and, in all of its sappy love ways, he happens to be everything I look for in the opposite sex.

And everyone keeps asking me why I don’t just go for it and I’ve come to the realization that I don’t really know how to.

Let love in that is.

After quite possibly being in love.

Or lust.

Or a nightmare.

Or whatever the fuck it was.

It Smells Like Spring, Ayo!

A little Justin Timberlake to get this morning started.

Afternoon? Morning? it’s 11:00. That’s still considered the morning.

It’s really awful when you go to order breakfast and nothing comes out of your mouth because that’s how sick you are.

I feel hungover but I stayed in last night and watched the Prince of Egypt because a) that movie has awesome songs and b) who wouldn’t want to be educated on such a fantastic biblical tale?

It smells like spring today. I opened my window and got the freshest of fresh breezes sweeping through and yelled to my room mate “I’m so happy! It smells like a rainy day in the summer!”

Thirteen degrees celsius on April 7th and I think Mother Nature is finally getting her shit together.

Breakfast at Tiffany’s

Holly: You know those days when you get the mean reds?
Paul: The mean reds? You mean like the blues?
Holly: No. The blues are because you’re getting fat and maybe it’s been raining too long, you’re just sad that’s all. The mean reds are horrible. Suddenly you’re afraid and you don’t know what you’re afriad of.