Trust your foresight.

I think we knew it was going to blow chunks. We really ought to have listened to our intuition. Instead, I wake up fucked up Tuesday morning for class at 9, shoes stepped on and dirty, as close to being broke as I have been in a year, and I smell horrible.

Great.

Fuck Justice, fuck MyspaceMusic tours, fuck bad judgment. I really ought to just have stayed home.

thank you morgan

My father and I buried our dog this morning. Easter Monday, overcast, birds whistling for him as we shoveled dirt back onto of his body. Last night he got to say goodbye to the family; he was full of energy and cheerful, a good final night. Ten days ago he had a very rough night, seizing up, pained, crying. He couldn't walk for a day. He got better and soon was walking, bounding even, and we thought that was that. This morning I woke up to my father telling me the news.

We dug a hole out in the back forest, between two wet cedars, near a white and brown birch that my father said reminded him of Morgan's colouration. We buried him on Easter Monday and told him he was a good boy, put a large stick on top of the dirt and told him to "stay".

House Hunting

A bad mood, grumpy with a side of strained belly muscles is no way to make a good impression on a prospective landlord. When the house is filled with people, all vying for tenancy, the feeling I get is one of slight resentment; why can't I just have the place? When all my references words of me are so glowing, how could anyone not want me residing in their house. Sure, the aforementioned references include my parents, childhood friends parents, and my happy go lucky thirty year old friend whom I state as my "employer"; in reality, his instructions are often vague, but upon completion, I am rewarded monetarily.

I'd hire me (and I always do), and I'd let me sleep at my house. I'd even let me sleep in bed, with me. They're right, I AM special.

Looking at these houses, we are in contention with quiet Asian families, couples, older people with "guaranteed income", females, and, the one with the most negative potential, close friends. Is this housing market in such a drastic way to force such competition? Maybe I ought just stay at home with mum and dad.

HAPPY ANNIVERSARY

A year ago today something happened. Nothing significant, nothing earth shattering, nothing that would change your whole perspective on shit, but something that may or may not have changed your weekly blog checking habits. Yes! You know what's coming.

A year ago today I thought that an anecdote about getting chased by a junkie in the DTES merited a spot on the internet stage. I read that first post again today and was semi underwhelmed. But we felt we had something to say; the things we were doing, the situations we were in, the girls, the boys, the houses, all of them observations as filtered through the eyes of two young men. Hotclique was a place to tell the story, to twist the nights events into a worthy narrative. 100 or so posts and a year later we're still here. To anyone who has ever given us a compliment, high five, or an insult, thank you. At least you took the time to read what we have to say. That's good enough for me.