June 12, 2003 - 1:32 p.m.
Have you heard me unravelling...?
i haven't craved a cigarette in so long. My return from Kingston was melancholy. Buses do that to me.
Stace and I reminisced about all those wierd childhood things, amazed at how we've pulled through, still friends even and because of all those idiosyncratic bonds...
remember that asshole peter heinz, I ask. oh, god, she says, i'd forgotten about that. Yeah, my brush with forced romance. 16 to his 24, not quite sure how he ended up with a condom in his hand and my pants off. We all wonder these things i'm sure.
The whole bus scenario made me well up with moments, busting around inside my head, spilling out onto the pages of my agenda. Under Wednesday the 11th of June, my day off, i write:
My lip balm just broke off in clumpy chunks, onto my lips. My pocket; the perfect temperature to render it chap goop, as opposed to stick.
I just passed the house where you would be now... except that you'r not, and i'm in a bus, not on my bike, heading for Kingston. I'm feeling nostalgic, rolling along with headphones in my ears, t and s playing, just for me. They always seem to have something relevant to say, no matter what i'm attaching their meanings to. A healing power, they are the superadhesive fix all of broken hearts, moving on, painting your apartment or riding on the hood of someone's car through a gay campground. After i broke up with stix i thought i was broken. "i am disappointed every morning that i wake up, ... by the feeling of waking up next to you... my sick guilt is so unwelcome". I too, could hear the sadness inside. And now, the bus and this music is making me think strong homesick thoughts of Brazil and being in love forever, too intensely to do anything but burn out. I remember sitting beside random men, all too curious about my light skin and eyes, dying each minute that i travelled further away from you. Now i'm thinking "I would go to jail with only boys, just to prove I was as tough as you". Its such an act, but i've fooled even myself. It only comes to me, in terrifying epiphanies, that i'm not as fool proof, and unshakable as i believe, not even big boots can save me.
But at Jess'house we have, yet another ridiculous conversation, that makes me wonder how I kept my sanity, let alone the enamel on my teeth, intact... okay, so my enamel isn't faring so well. grace a la bobby pin fiascos that were our ritual. I promise never to let you convince me to do your hair ever again.
She says, Are you sure this plain white t-shirt is okay?
And in a way i never previously would have dared to answer, i shoot her a response drenched in sarcasm...
I don't know what would have possessed you to ask if you look alright in a plain white t-shirt (she's waving her hand around like a magic wand, transforming her appearance into a romper room mirror wherein i might be able to glimpse all the potential fashion tragedies of the aforementioned white shirt.) What would look better!? What could possibly look any more okay than a white t-shirt?
Then she moved on to the jeans.... it never ends.
I'm all over the place today. Still smoking embers of the nasty, unfortunate conversation with "bob". Guess i'll just say that patronizing is all i can be towards him now, since my idea of friendship doesn't involve being evaluated, criticized and cut off for over an hour in a lighthearted, after work drink at the bar conversation. Oh please, let's.
Where are you i wonder? I left signs on the lawn, where have they gone, did you take them to tease me? to follow or lead me? Some silly love song..
Staley and i had a remarkably good time for a night out in Ktown. We smoked a j at her salon.. after we did my hair...(figures i'd spend more money getting my hair done, for the sheer travel time and ticket price of going all the way to kingston, than i would have here in TO. But i got to see stacey and my granny... oooh, speaking of which, her united church is affirming... and they have a new minister who recently introduced her PARTNER... well that's great, i said. No, i don't think that's great at all. Well why not granny? to which she spouted the 'definition of bullshit.. er marriage, clause... Then i asked if it weren't a very modern idea that marriage had anything to do with love, and if it weren't in fact, an institution based on property and control of women's bodies etc etc.. to which she gave a begrudging "maybe" and changed the subject... but not before i could criticize her congregation for their thoroughly uncharitable and unchristian attitudes, seeing as how everyone is entitled to love and happiness, that there are many, more pressing issues to worry about than who someone is in love with,... and if they also happen to love jesus, god, the spirit and whatnot, that they seem to be living a decent sort of life... she let me push this in one ear, while she held the other wide open on the way out. At least i didn't say nothing.
but back to the salon, the first of 3 splifs and then over to the brew pub for white tail beer, which actually tasted like real beer, which i don't think i like because if I were to drink it too often i'd get accustomed to it and never again be able to enjoy the shit that passes for beer in the big city. Better to avoid disappointment by staying away from the good stuff by avoiding good beers altogether. next, on to peckerheads for mussels, voodoo shrimp and the second smoke with some guy named guisepe from Brampton....who asked if we were models or hairstylists and told us to come join him at his room in the holiday in if we wanted to smoke later. Instead we headed to the Cocamo...for some fake beer and listened to a live band play all their favourite songs from grade 8... n' i said, what about breakfast at tiffany's ... or wonderwall... wonderful. He was so genuinely pleased with his selection that i was pleased to be listening... I too knew all the words. woo hoo smalltown. I fake it here as a Torontonian, but my heart is burlington all the way. My summers on Wolfe Island gave me a taste for the St.Lawrence scene... we chatted about how ironic it is that Staley and i got a bit of eachother in the end... from our polar opposite childhood selves, farmgirl (literally), island wildchild in pvc bustiers and me in my mexx and gap chinos with long silky blond hair... never been dyed. Stace feared she'd never get sophisticated, i feared i'd never be myself.... my inner pervert was starved beneath my j crew interior. (this was before i started wearing skirts with no underwear)... god, stace and i have seen the light and dark sides of eachother... fortunately, we both, like rubber bands stretched to their limit have bounced back from our extremes to find a comfy fit in our present tense... she's still edgy without being scary and on the rise in a job she loves... i'm having great sex, ditched the hair and shoes and purses...just kidding i never had a purse... and stopped sleeping with boys, and caring in general whether i could command a salesperson's attention in an expensive store. I know what this means. I look less pulled together, more myself..which, if you've ever watched me try to find anything i've just put down... is not at all pulled together... the outer veneer is a sham.
I wonder, now that i've actually had an orgasm, if i'd like sleeping with boys?... i'd know what i was looking for. I guess there's only one way to find out, stace ventures... yeah, but i'm not up for a reconnaissance mission right now... straight sex to me seems kinky.. i guess that's how some guys look at lesbian sex...
At least the one's at the Plaza... the zoo was fun. We had Canadian Tall boys... and sat in highschool classroom chairs around a makeshift stage. I enjoyed the dancer's conspiratorial looks to us as she manipulated the slackjawed men on the other side of her platform...pressing smiles to their faces...
next stop, some bar i can't remember the name of.. must have been fun... and then .... y tu mama tambien...
