Chinatown Grocery Girl

Chinatown Grocery Girl

a poem by mike

i watch you behind the till
and you dont see me still
i want you to and i don't
i think you might but then you don't

Putting vegetables in bags
so fast and so perfect
I see the marks on your arms
but no one else would suspect

you are perfect- beautiful to me
but I saw you shooting in the alley
did you see me?
lovely chinatown grocery girl

It's been like a billion years since I posted

ya, i suck, and have also given up on capitol letters :D

A while back last year google changed their blog service so that you had to make some new google account to get into you blog. Sucked for mew, coz I really didn't get it... I had the guys at K-Net on Kingsway helpp me (cool guys) and also John Love logged in and helped too.

Then I lost my friggin password for blogger, and kind of gave up on this for a year. Dunno why I came back here but then again why not? its better than getting in trouble.

So thanx friends who have told me to keep writing... i'm going to try. there's still a lot of things that have happend to me that aren't here to see. maybe will be tho...

We screwed up the blog posts kind of...

Jack's friend John helped me update this blog - some setting like claiming it or sdomething - and it made him the author of all my posts... That's messed up. Maybe I can claim tem back to me, don't know.

Anyway, it's still Mike who is running this joint. Really.

It's been like forever since I wrote on this blog. I still want to do it, but theres too much news to say. Tons of stuff has hapened to me in all that time. But Im still here!

Ding Dong Ted is NOT Dead

I was down on Pender street last week with my little brother, and we saw this skinny beat up guy with a beard, and he looked familiar to me It was Ted. I couldnt believe it.

Last time I wrote about Ted seems like forever ago.
Here's the link to what i said last time tho: Ding dong Ted is dead Part 2

Here we are another 2 years after that and things are going well for me and Mom. but not for Ted.

I'm sure it was him, just standing out on the curb with no shirt on... in front odf this hostel or flophouse or whatever coz there were lots of other sad lookin guys out there too. he had some secondhand jeans and was skinny as hell. It must have been him... I cant believe it.

I think he saw me. Chris was a bit freaked out and so we turned around quick and got around a corner and went another way to get downtown.

I think its karma or somethign that did that to him. It almost makes me hate him less but I wouldnt tell my Mom that.

My brother Chris...

Im starting to worry about my little brother. I want this to embarass his stupid ass so he'll stop doing dumb shit - crack for instance.

Dude... just come home.

Ding dong Ted is Dead, Part 2

I justr raelized that my first ever post on this blog was about how we had not heard from my asshole stepdad, Ted in like 4 months.
It was here Mike Coffey's Blog: Ding dong Ted is dead

Now its a year and a half later and still nothing from him. It's like he dropped off the face of the earth. I bet he got himself into some trouble and is running off to save his ass from some even badder guys. Wouldn't surprise me at all.

I don't think hell ever see this because hes too stupid to use a computer anyway, but we are doing better than ever with that asshole out of our lives. Regina (my Mom) is happier and so is my little brother Chris. I've been doing some construction work, like a general helper to a guy who does drywall and carpentry and stuff. I am learning more about doing tattoos from this guy who used to work at Mirella's on Boundary and Grandview. I'd like to do tatoo art for a livingt one day, if I ever get good at it.

Thanks to Barry from K-Net here (the Internet cafe where I am doing this blog) for helping me with that hyprlink. I need to learn some html...

Blogger comments are disabled

...take that, you "comment whores" who blatently promote your biz with comments on my blog... Now you cant do it.

Bite me.

Mike.

Death to Blog Comment Whores!

If you look at the comment for the post just before this one, you see this long-ass commercial ad written as a comment on my blog. Scumbags.

If I can ever find out how to remove that kind of comment, but leave the comment feature on, I'll do it.

Be warned comment whores, I will find you.

(This is what I get for not posting to my blog in like months and months... I'm like a absentee landlord)

mike.

I've been painting, kind of.

For the last month, Ive been working with this guy as kind of a painter's assistant. Not like painting with an artists brush, but more like with a roller an a drop cloth.

Anyway, Ive been learning how to put latex paint onto drywall, and am getting good at putting it on nice and evenly, with an orange peel surface that my boss says means its good.

The money's good too, and this one time I actually got to do some real painting of my own, right on a wall. Here's how it happened:

The guy I work for (Dirk) also does drywalling and some carpentry and construction jobs too. This one time he said they were going to take this whole section of wall out. It was like a partition and didnt go all the way to the celing, so no problem to take it out. My boss knows I like to draw and paint and stuff, and said that if I wanted to come a few hours early, I could do whatever I wanted on the wall before we took it down. I said sure, so he loaned me his digital camera, and let me use whatever paints or markerts or sparay paints I could get. I spent like 3 and half hours on this damn wall, and had this awesome whole scene laid our. It was like my neighbourhood on Kingsway, but instead of people, I did them as these white ghosts. They were still hanging out, or fighting or running around and doing all the stuff that I have seen people do, but they were like these almost see-thgough spirit people. I used some white spray paint or speckled it off a big paint brush to get a halo around some of them, and also used a large black marker for a lot of the thinner lines. It was so awesome and I was super tired when it was done.

I took a couple of far away shots of it, and then got in close for a few details, and took shots with the flash and without. Some of the pics are kind of dark, or show the glare from the flash a little, but maybe I can fix that in Photoshop sometime.

Dirk was there just as I took my last shots, and said it was fucking awesome. I felt like ten feet tall, even though I was so exhausted and totally covered in ink and spray paint. Dirk and I drank a few beers and cranked the tunes before I gav4e it my first shot with the 20 pound sledge. It was said, but also fun to let er rip like that. I went medevle on that wall, but kept a large two foot piece for myself. It's like a trophy for my wall.

What's a Defender Ship

I am a Defender-ship. I am fiercely protective of my friends and loved ones, and unforgiving of any who would hurt them. Speed and foresight are my strengths, at the cost of a little clumsiness. I'm most comfortable with a few friends, but sometimes particularly enjoy spending time in larger groups. What Video Game Character Are You?

Stages of Life and Death

Warning - this links to a gross topic. Don't read this or click the link if you have a weak stomach.

One moment you're alive and the next you're dead.

It definetly seems like that when I hear about all those poor people who got wiped out in Asia from that wave caused by that huge earthquake. I heard on the news that the quake was so powerful that it actually made the whole planet shift a tiny bit. That's freakin scary. And it shows me just how small we are.

And now there are all those dead bodies are laying all over the place. It's like that part of the whole had totally gone to hell.

It makes life seem small and special. Like a rare thing that could easily be gone in a minute.

Levels of cops on skytrain, just to look out for beggars

Poor old woman came onto Skytrain the other night. She was asking everyone for spare change, talking loudly to nobody in particular and almost everyone ignored her. I gave her some change.

This is weird though. A tall guy wearing a dark blue ski jacket was talking into a walkie talkie and describing her. "Short, old, wearing a leather jacket, scarf on her head". These were some kind of undercover skytrain cops, I thought. What was going to happen to the old lady? She seemed pretty harmless to me.

I over heard the secret skytrain cop guy say that a skytrain attendant was already on the phone. I guess they were wanting to chase her away. They wouldn't bust a little old lady for panhandling on the train, would they?

I got off at Commercial Station and so did she. I walked ahead and looked behind me to see where she went. She went up to a large native lady and the lady said how are you and and gave her a hug. A blonde woman in a sytrain jacket was talking on the emergency phone, and then hung up and started walking over to the old lady and the native woman. The skytrain woman kind of talked to her and waved her arm in the direction of the exit. I guess she was just going to get shooed away for begging on the skytrain.

We're all living in Amerika

I saw the video "Amerika" last week. This is a bitter song written by a pissed off German band called Rammstein. Aparently, their a number one hit band in Europe. I wonder if they get played on MTV? I saw this song on MuchMusic.

If you don't like hard rock, with a lot of German lyrics, then don't bother looking for this song. You won't like it. I think it's cool.

So, enjoy these words of love which are the song lyrics translated into English by some fan on another web site:

We're all living in America
America is wonderful
we're all living in America
America
America

We're all living in America
America is wonderful
we're all living in America
America
America

When we dance I want to lead
when you turn yourself around alone
let us control you a bit
I'll show you how to walk right

We create a lovely round dance
the freedom plays from all violins
music comes from the White House
and in front of Paris stands Mickey Mouse

We're all living in America
America is wonderful
we're all living in America
America
America

I know the very useful steps
and I will protect you from missteps
and who does not want to dance at the end
does not know that he must dance

We create a lovely round dance
I will show you the direction
to Africa comes Santa Claus
and in front of Paris stands Mickey Mouse

We're all living in America
America is wonderful
we're all living in America
America
America

We're all living in America
Coca Cola, Wonderbra
we're all living in America
America
America

This is not a love song
this is not a love song
I don't sing my mother tongue
no, this is not a love song

We're all living in America
America is wonderful
we're all living in America
America
America

We're all living in America
Coca Cola, sometimes war
we're all living in America
America
America

Don't F*ck with dr. Ruth

Havren't written in a while. Saw this and thought it was cool. From some radio station web site:

"Dr. Ruth as an assasin?!?

DR. RUTH WESTHEIMER made a career as an expert on sex, but at one time, she could have chosen a different career path. . . that of ISRAELI ASSASSIN. She told the "New York Post", "When I was in my routine training for the Israeli army as a teenager, they discovered completely by chance that I was a lethal sniper. I could hit the target smack in the center further away than anyone could believe. Not just that, even though I was tiny and not even much of an athlete, I was incredibly accurate throwing hand grenades too. Even today I can load a Sten automatic rifle in a single minute, blindfolded." Dr. Ruth says that after she left the military, she was almost killed in a terrorist attack. "My legs were almost ripped off on my 20th birthday in 1948 in Jerusalem from cannon ball shrapnel which exploded in the student's residence where I was living. Three other students were killed instantly and many more were wounded. The metal pierced both my legs and there was blood everywhere. A cannon ball from Jordan had smashed through the window. I was thrown 20 feet. The strangest thing was that all I could think about was whether there might be some blood on the brand-new shoes I had just gotten for my birthday, and amazingly there wasn't even a drop on them. . . which was all I cared about in some kind of strange denial."

That's just weird, cause she's just this little nice lady who talks about sex and dstuff. So, like whats next? Maybe Dr. Phil used to be a hardcore porn star?

More Walking Dream stuff...

I just remembered another thing about this.

This guy I see sometimes outside the liquor store, he's this really old man. We talk sometimes, and one time he said to me "Do you ever have that dream where you're walking along?" and I said "yeah sometimes" and you know what he said?

He said "But that's what it's like for me all the time when I'm awake". Creepy.

YOu know that dream where your walking?

Dreams about walking - wordIQ Dream Dictionary: "dream of walking"

I have those sometimes. I have those a lot actualy. Sometimes I am just walking down the street, like Broadway in the middle of the night, and I'm not cold or anything. Sometimes I'm walking with this man, and I'm very young. I think the man could be my Dad, my real Dad, not my step Dad.

Or this other time I was dreaming I walked and then got onto a bus, and my teacher was driving it. That's pretty symbollic of the way things are. I'm being taken for a ride, and he's driving! :)

Free from the dragon

I ran into Smokin Stan again last week. He said was now totally off Methidone and had been "free from the dragon" for almost a year.

He said he'd started going to the christian church up by Rupert Street, and that people there were totally acepting to him.

I bought one of his drawings off him, and he told me how he sells them to tattoo places for 10 or 20 bucks. He said the name of this artist that he really liked, some awesome tatoo artist I guess, but I can't remember it. I showed him my shoulder and wrist, and then he rolled up his pant legs to show off these amazing huge dragons - one going around each leg. He had huge dark blue lines on his legs too. "dragons viens" he called them, from the needle.

Stan said it was like he needed a needle for both kinds of high: one for the drug he put in his vieins, and one for the colour he put in his skin.

He told me the first one had been slowly killing him, so he stopped using it. The second one was what helped keep him alive now.

(Thanks ejohn for uploading Stans dragon drawing...)