The future is moving away farther away from defeated eyes...

Let's see. Where to start...

Some asshole stole my worthless bike seat last week. Thanks for that. I depend on my bike as a method of transportation and some piece of shit stole a key component rendering it out of service for a few days. They probably tossed it a block later since it had no value to them but was incredibly valuable to me. So my official bike tally is two bikes stolen, one bike seat stolen, a car dooring a few weeks ago that almost broke my arm and one a week later where I escaped injury miraculously. Plus about a million close calls. I don't care. You will literally have to pull my handlebars out of my cold, dead hands.

My job screwed me in every orfus much like a gang bang would. After busting my ass all year, it has been decided that the mistakes of others are miraculously of my doing and I get no bonus or no raise. I was told in that fancy office talk that I'm a piece of shit. I have checked out of that job a long time ago...but I still did the job. They are too cheap to fire me so they will berate me and not give me the satisfaction of severence pay and EI. It's the ol' "let's make her hate her job so much she'll quit" routine. That's fine. I was planning on doing it anyways but here's the kick in the pants I needed to find a new job asap.

I shot the Flogging Molly show tonight. I really wanted to go and see Gallows but they dropped off. Regardless, I had a committment to shoot the show and I went, got my shots, and pretty much biked home. I got tired of the extremely intoxicated dudes hitting on me and intoxicated girls slamming into me while I was in an open space. Oh how I loathe thee Sound Academy.

Tomorrow I am off to London to shoot and see Converge for the first time. That's pretty much the only thing I have to keep me holding on at this point. Not only do I finally get to see my favourite band ever, but I get to shoot them as well. I am counting on Jacob to take me to my happy place. Ironic if you think about.

Ain't that a shame...my tears fell like rain...

The American Graffiti soundtrack is quite possibly one of my favourite soundtracks of all time. I can credit this to my father. My favourite memories from childhood consist of me curling up with my father on a Saturday night in his favourite chair as we listened to his record collection. This almost entirely consisted of fifties rock n roll and motown. My first memory dates back to listening to records with my father, seeing how his eyes lit up and a smile crossed his face when these songs crackled through the speakers. For hours on end we would listen to Chuck Berry, the Beatles, Fats Domino, Otis Redding, Buddy Holly, The Beach Boys and the list goes on forever...

My father is an honest man who worked very hard to support his family. When he wasn't being a hero and saving lives in his day job as a firefighter, he was painting houses on his days off to ensure we were sheltered, clothed and fed. With all the stresses my father endured in his day to day life, he could always come home to his favourite chair and his favourite records and lose himself for hours. I felt honoured that he let me into his secret club. I became a full fledged member.

Although as I got older, I discovered my own brands of music that my father couldn't possibly understand or like, but I know he always appreciated that I loved music as much as he does. I think he knows that he instilled that deep within me, and I will forever be greatful to my father for showing me how amazing music is from such an early age.

Twenty some odd years later, here I sit alone in my apartment in something that could be referred to as my favourite chair, as it is the chair I spend the majority of my home time in, listening to the music he showed me all those years ago. And that makes me smile.

I drove 400 hundred miles and met an asshole just like you...

Last weekend was the benefit show for his family to cover funeral costs. It was a strange experience. I caught up with a lot of people who matter, avoided people who didn't. Got kicked in the ass twice by some random piece of shit Shwa douche bag. Punched him for doing so. The main goal was achieved but as an actual farewell show to Majewski it failed. That's ok though. There will be a proper show just for him come the fall. We will send him off right at another time.

The following day I ventured to Uxbridge for my dad's 60th birthday at his golf club. It was small, short and to the point. I ignored my sibling. I can't even stand to look at him. He is nothing to me and I am ok with that.

I have been feeling a bit defeated lately. A little beat down. Hopefully a new apartment that I don't hate will change that. I need to somehow come to terms with things that have happened. Eventually I will get there. It just might take a while.

Last night Jesse and I modelled for a photography class. That was interesting. Hopefully we will get some cool shots from it. We never have any pictures together because I am always behind the camera instead of being in front of it. I'm not very photogenic. At least I made some scratch out of the deal. It's definately much needed.

I need a purpose I need a meaning. I need to know there is trophy and meaning to all we lose and all we fight for...

Last Saturday we buried him forever. I still can't believe it. It still hurts me. The man who was always around is no more.

Memories of the times we shared are constantly flooding back. The time I locked us out of my house and he scaled the side like a bastard monkey and miraculous squeezed his broad shoulders through an impossibly small window. The time he drove down solo to surprise me at the Cursed and Career Suicide show. All the nights we talked until the sun came up. The shows at BLR. The Anagram house shows. Breakfest at Sneaky's. When he walked into my backyard and marveled at all the grapes I had and instantly told me that I had to make my own wine and gave me step by step instructions. His poster art shows. Going to Ted's. Talking about my mom's imminent death and how we would want people to react if we were to pass. And how that is now coming true. Running in to him at shows constantly. Getting shitfaced at the Velvet Elvis the rare time I came to the Shwa. The short but hilarious emails that were exchanged. He once told me that it was always good to see me because it was always a good time when I was around, but the funny thing was I always said the same about him...

All that is over. However those memories will never be forgotten.

I stood in the line of people dressed in black. I accepted the rose a priest was giving to us and I laid that rose upon your coffin. I couldn't stop the hot tears pouring down my face even if I wanted too. My heart was literally broken.

He was so fucking beautiful on the inside and out and I'm glad that you were apart of my life.

I poured some PBR on the ground for you and tossed a pair of black chucks on a telephone wire in your honour.

Good-bye Michal Majewski.

You are forever close to my heart.