Month: July 2004

amber on pale

Irma’s quote of the day: “I don’t know why people put drugs in thier arms when it feels so very good when you just squish them”

We watched Plunkett & Macleane today and I was reminded about just how much I love the Tiger Lillies and the Talking Heads. I love having a playlist with both intermixed with perhaps a few random Catherine Wheel tunes. Eat My Dust you Insensitive Fuck maybe or Judy Staring at the Sun with Our House in the Middle of Our Street.

Such an odd artform, the playlist order and mix. Sounds have to shift properly, sudden surprises and slow burn fades like liquid metal. This one ends in drumroll, this one starts with chimes, now I need one with thundering voices and de sotto cello. This is a warm up tune, gaining rhythym as it hits the beat. I want one next that makes the girl feel like kissing the dragon. Taking its smokey head and touching lips to that burning mouth.

Mmmmmm, like raining or seeing me cry glittering tears in sunlight. Honey on skin. Amber on pale. Time for the coda, then BREAK. Close your eyes for just a moment and feel it twist your shoulders. The head tilts with these notes, it’s involuntary. Thoughts flying so far away, but close enough to touch, to tingle. Oh, oh, ohhh oh, that feeling of water on the face, salty and stinging and full of fresh sticky freedom. I love the sounds you make.

not crying yet

Woke depressed today. Pressed down and emptied. My people are vanishing one by one by one. Apparently I don’t know how to care for some properly, others in the right way. No-one telling me anything in time for the fact. Then there’s the very few who don’t want to leave, but must. I’ve got something I don’t know about the world, and I like that, but not this morning. This morning is hard. Difficult. Weight is filling my lungs to the point where I don’t want to breathe. I rise from continuously waking, reaching out for someone who isn’t there, to my fathers increasingly disturbing letters. This is not what I need when I’m bloody and bleeding.

I could call out now, but you would not come.

Talking In Capitals Because I Know No Other Way

I love how quickly I can slip into accepting things. Adaptation without thinking about it. I am here and this is What Is so this is What I Do. I wish it was something I could explain better, this feeling of Yes. Everything is as it should be because this is how it is. There is no It Would Be Better If.
*sighs*
One of these days everything will click snick into place and clarity will befall me, like the idea of rain washing something clean. I’ll be able to explain myself, I’ll be able to write and create that “this is for me” understanding in whoever reads.

Gavools on-line now. He swished straight on from the airport. Burbled up on messenger at two o’clock almost on the dot. Surprise and relief. I know what I know and I know he cares, so I’m happy. Anyone who revels in my independance with me is to be kept. I followed you home, can I keep it?

We stepped out, me to meet Domnique, him to re-arrange his life into Calgary again. My walk up the Drive was pleasant and punctuated by people stopping me on account of my hat. A police M.O. went out today for someone in a purple hat. Nevermind it was for a young male, mid-twenties, in a tight black t-shirt and bright long shorts. I have a purple hat. I must be stopped and questioned by the Filth. Made me a little late for meeting Dominique, but she’d collected Woody, so I don’t feel guilty in the slightest. After assiduously not guarding some fellows truck, we dropped in Wazubi’s for spicy prawns and chocolate cake. The waitress brought a dish of whipped cream with chocolate sauce. After the ordeal of the spice, I think I fully assuaged my girliness for the week in eating it straight with a baby dessert fork.

Ethan and Ian are on thier way over for some Full Contact Frisbee. I think we’ll walk up to Grandview. We’ll be that much closer to strawberries. Yummy freedom red on the tongue.

as much as I dye it, I am a blonde idiot

Um wow. Holy flying monkays and cheesecake cats on pogosticks. Utterly bugflagging crazyness. I’ve recieved replies to the little note I sent my father. They’re sort of “I would contact you, but they would kill us, because the government is secretly run by nazi aliens” letters. I wish I was exaggerating. I asked my mother for his middle name and offered to forward them to her. Vicki doesn’t want them and I don’t blame her. I, however, am going to reply. I want to know more. Where in the city to avoid, if nothing else. As I said to someone already, I would point you to a film illustrating his violence if that sort of film weren’t banned in Canada.
here’s the tame one

I have sent panties to be thrown by my friend Mike.

Talking on-line with Mike, I asked him if he would throw lacey panties on the stage and this was his reply:

SpaZ will be seeing David Byrne live in 2 weeks! says:
You could even staple a note to them. “Dear David, I’m stuck off in Vancouver and can’t come to your show. But I have sent panties to be thrown by my friend Mike. Please come to Vancouver and fuck me. Yours, Jhayne.

this time we exist

Walking back to the empty apartment, wanting very badly to have somewhere to be, someone I’m to meet and spend time with. I don’t want to step back into my hollow life in a room where he breathed. Walking back, I remember this from last time. Saying goodbye only to run into him again and again in the corner of my eye. Cities are rife with long men. None with the right angle of head, none with the proper voice to call me out. I walked away smiling, though I turned around and watched his red backpack out of sight with the eyesting that closes the throat. I could feel it in my teeth when they got on the plane. Fingers on the rests when acceleration hit. A moment when boarding when he looked at his shoes on the gray plastic floor. Back of the brain hallucination maybe, but it pushed me into me like reality.

this part never gets any easier, does it

I had nothing to read on the way back and nothing to write with. The bookstore gave me Memoirs of a Geisha. Thoughts of Nikki tied in with it, the hot-tub, the flowers, bubbles and Her. Patterning for my female desires. Next staying summertime. An after the accident walking with a cane, staying in the front room, living at Johnathan’s house, with Mike Schaldemose and Carrie. Being with Bill and missing him. Fitting that I take it away from this. First patterning. First with a lot of things. Painter lover and just realizing last night that I was underage.

menagerie deadalive

So! New additions to the household today on my Gavools last day. A dead wren in the freezer and a live crow on the porch. Poor thing’s too young to fly and has twisted a foot falling from the tree. Anyone know how to care for a crow? Anyone want one? He, well, I call him a he, though I certainly don’t know, is surprisingly good when handled. He can’t perch for his foot, but is quite cuddly for something wild.

We were just out for dinner with Domnique. He leaves tomorrow, first thing.

his voice through the window of the apartment

Well, this is it. Last day. *grinning wicked* It’s been a time. I think we’ll keep eachother. If he doesn’t watch out, when I hit my settlement, I’ll commision him. Triptych: You, I, and us. Then, now, and capture my youth boy-oh or perish. He’s on the phone right now, seeing to arrangements. He’s flying stand-by. Ian is kind enough to drive us out there. The bed will empty and I won’t be sleeping over anywhere for awhile. This Saturday is Illuminaires and I know I’ll feel sad at the fireworks. Lost in trying to keep your face darling.

 

Off to morning coffee.