Month: June 2004

*sighs* Ray hasn’t answered nor returned any calls yet, but that’s alright. I’m getting things together. Tip-toeing around as to not wake Adrian. I feel lucky that I’m even awake. I was up and too awake until crashing finally somewhere just past 7 this morning. Not packing or anything actually constructive, rather I was suddenly in serious conversation with some people back east. Unexpected conversation. Very. It’s hard to talk about certain things over the internet. Body language and nuance just get lost in the letters. Plus, well – certain topics are just going to keep you up at night, no matter how much sleep is needed.

This is how it started

There is an idea slowly germinating. Tendrils of thought are unfolding into a list for a movie night we simply must have. For a welcome to the neighborhood at my place? I haven’t any gear at the moment – television or media player, but this might change during the week.

Mostly childrens moves, but of the sort that you never hear about anymore. Animation only, perhaps. The Point, The Phantom TollBooth, The Last Unicorn. Perhaps even Yellow Submarine.

Any other suggestions?

I’m thinking dark, should-be-nostaligia but aren’t really. Toss in something near the end that doesn’t quite fit, but should, like Delicatessan.

 

 

It’s just the time for it apparently. I’ve been searching for the only hip-hop I’ve ever truly liked and tonight I found it again. The Disposable Heros of HipHoprisy. I remember when it came out, in.. 1990/1? and I recall clearly how utterly utterly I loved it. In retrospect, I must have been a rather odd eight year old. Listening to it now, I like it even more.

I was floored, utterly floored when I found out a SanFran fellow I knew was the bass on the album they did with William S. Burroughs. Keith MacArthur, wherever the heck he is now, then member of the Will Bernard 4-tet. Not that I even know if they’re still around. I think they’ve moved on to become Motherbug. Why didn’t I just let you give me that disc when I was there. Stupid honour. There’s an urge to throw everything off, slough my plans, things and people, and go track them down. Track all of the people involved and throw them into a studio at gunpoint. “You WILL make more!!”

I didn’t realize how much time spent with those fellows really truly meant to me until tonight. Just moments in time, preserved in the amber glow of being happy in a time I never was. How rare and precious. I’m sitting here with the Heros album sitting at remotely queued and not even paying any attention. All my thoughts are on Canada Day from years ago. Chris, then soundman at the Starfish, in his orange jumpsuit and the clothing label fastners through his ears. Keith sitting out back the house with me trying to explain to me I had a style, even if I didn’t see it yet. Micheal laughing because he knew I needed to see Run Lola Run and it hadn’t arrived in Canada yet. It’s funny that I don’t remember Will at all, except as a man in the background, when really he was the glue. 

Anyhoo – the sun has come up, the sky is pearling gray. I should sleep.

quick lyrics sample

It’s 1 in the morning, so what am I doing? Cleaning out my in-box of course! Of Course! Houseclean before the move. Or something. How improper, beginning a sentence with ‘or’. Following it with sentence fragments. How low my english. Anyhoo *tangent tangent*

I came across an excerpt from a letter in the midst of tossing out old poetry. I love my ghodmum.

Grading hell. Grading hell.Grading hell.Grading hell.

I graded 70 exams yesterday. That means I read seventy answers about the postmodern and poststructuralist positions on the possibility of floating signifiers.
Aaaaarrrrrggggghhhhhh..

My family officially rules.

This Disclosure site is both wonderful and somehow sad for me. I keep seeing all these places that made me smile.

Anyone else here win at pool at the Bovine on Queen? Or laughed when first seeing this place?

so many things

http://www.disclosure.ca/

For those who haven’t yet heard, disclosure.ca is a growing collection of photographs that explore Canada and what it means to be Canadian. Disclosure’s ultimate goal is to eventually have contributions from every territory, province, city and town within Canada, but we can’t do so without your help. Therefore we’re asking that you take a moment to look over the site and contribute your favourite Canadian pics; this can include just about anything, as long as it’s related to our wonderful country in one way or another. For example, that shot that you got of gramps at the Christmas table chugging from your Don Cherry mini keg; your kid learning how to knot a rope at Beaver Camp; that pic that you took of the big one that got away in Lake Ontario (that’s if the photo ever surfaces); oh ya, and the time you first encountered Poison Oak-they’ll all do.

 

Dominique and I are still going at it. Hours and hours later. We were on the phone this afternoon until the batteries ran out, and now we’re keeping eachother awake with messenger.

I’m getting tips on how to strip without terrifying the boy. There’s a more than sneaking suspician that I will never, ever, ever use any of this. It’s making me laugh. I think if I were to take my clothes off while talking to a fellow, they would turn around or otherwise run away. *laughter* It would ruin everything.

Course, I’m glad right now I’m also not the type to visualize certain things, because honestly, as much as we’re fascinating eachother with our tales of piccadillos, (or failed attempts, in my case), I’m fairly happy not thinking of Rowan in particular ways.

I imagine today has had more talk about my sexual history and/or predilictions than in the last year all told.  I’m fairly blushing. Somehow a feeling of being unimaginative has come upon me. Or perhaps a deformity of introspection. Like I should look more to describing what I know about myself rather than blithly continuing along. 

We’re talking about firsts now, which is almost a touchy subject with me. Funny how something that I never talk about comes up twice this week. I remember Mishka’s first kiss. She came home bubbling and excited for hours and I remember the week she first had sex, and how I knew about it, but she didn’t tell me until about a month after. But I can only remember hers, really. I remember my first time with one person, but not another and it’s hard to remember kissing either of them. I have hundreds, thousands, of in-between moments. Holding hands at night, at the busstop talking about nothing in particular. His long coat. There is no feeling somehow bereft.

*laughter* Now we’re into the three-ways. This conversation is just delving deeper and deeper into places I don’t feel comfortable. *grins* Not that it ever stops me really, but I have to admit I just stopped and paused. A breath of a moment to get over my rush of nervous images. Only twice and a half now and I’ve escaped fairly well both. All back from when I didn’t own a dress and was just learning skirts. Bloody Crow. Good thing he never kissed me. I would have killed him.

I’ve been talking with Dominique for hours now. We’ve been talking about relationships and sexuality. The logic and the frailty of both. The final words and ultimatums that seem to be the male hallmark in our relative experiences. We’re laughing a lot, and trying to explain ourselves. I think she’s doing better than I am. The fact that I’m not someone who thinks on these things makes me feel like I’m carrying around a lock of hair from a stranger and trying to weave significance about it.

Just a note – Dolly Parton covering Collective Soul is a very wierd thing. I can’t help but like her somehow for this quote “Honey – it costs a lot to look this cheap!”

I nabbed some X-rays from the clinic when I was there yesterday with Robin. I’m not going to keep them all, so if anyone finds one on thier doorstep, it’s because I care. Well, that and maybe I think you’re creative enough to do something neat with it. Maybe. *grinning*

Nah.

I was late picking up Robin. I’d walked over to Superstore to pick up a roll I’d forgotten about and to drop off five more. It took an hour of flipping through envelopes before I simply gave up. We searched thier entire collection of photos and we couldn’t find mine at all. I’ll be a bit upset if the roll is missing, but I suppose there’s nothing I can do about it. I don’t have any idea what could be on it. I’m worried it might be my long lost roll from San Fransisco, but I think that’s holding on to a dream a bit too much. I’m more than certain that was left in the truck that brought me back. I suppose I’m just concerned that I’ve lost something precious, but really – stupidity. In a week I’ll get back more. (One of the B&W is in there by the by).

After the clinic, we shot down to Gastown to give Gavin his housekeys and in walking back to the train, we found out it was Storyeums first day open. So, hey! Free day! The set-up was scary good. I was possible to smell the money that must have gone in. The flow from room to room was wonderfully jarring until near the end. There was a gratuitous song and dance I could have done without and not enough places to sit down. Michael was working, so I gave him a hug. His contract runs out Wednesday. From the look of things, he’s done a wonderful job. So kudos Mike! It’s not your fault the end sequence was flaky. Every schoolchild in the lower mainland is going to file through there at least once.

Almost more memorable was the fellow who stopped dead in the street upon seeing me. I haven’t the slightest clue who he is. He was walking down Water street in the other direction from us, and simply got caught somehow. Average looking young man, with longish dark hair in a ponytail. He turned as we passed and followed along a few feet, almost walking into people from not looking where he was going. I looked behind and he was still standing, staring from a half block away.