I want to explore what it means to be me (how cliché is that?), what it means to be allowed to experience everything. Sitting in front of my laptop playing Solitaire isn’t getting me anywhere, but it’s what I do. I’m stressed out. Solitaire. Finished a part of an application. Solitaire. Being told what to do at work while someone else makes the decisions isn’t working me out. It’s wearing me out. Being in the same city since I was a preteen isn’t conducive to risk. But I’ve never been a risk taker, so what do I do? I have these projects lining up in front of me, but I cower. I take them on, on, on but not with all of me. Never with all of me. Where is the exploration in a desk? I don’t want to be no armchair archeologist. I think I’m starting to grow old because I think about my mortality in a different way. In a way that things are changing, moving so fast that all I have time to do is go through the motions. Sometimes I feel because J is such a dreamer, I have to be the one to induce practicality in our lives. He is the one living out his dreams as an artist. I can’t let myself.
This song is from my favorite downtempo house album of all time, A View from the Heights. My ex introduced me to them. I don’t even recall how and when. I wish I remember the story of how he came across them. I found a copy of the album in some small shop on a corner in downtown Paris. I also bought Cassius’ 1999 and Feeling for You for 5 euros each. This was 2002 and the euro was just taking over, all the prices were still in franks too. This lovely blonde woman worked there. She kept talking to me and I pretended to know more French than I truly did. She found it pleasant that such a young girl was backpacking and still had the will to buy vinyl to carry around so she gave me some French house record. I felt so cool. I didn’t feel so cool when I was sweating buckets in June carrying heaps of records from the different cities I visited, but at that age, the struggle feels less. Always.
x. it freaks me out to clean my bum when i have nail polish on.
x. a new haircut is a new lease on life (even if my fingers look warped).
x. i kind of wish i was a cylon so there could be many copies of me + i can delegate the 4792820 projects i have to do to them, even though they would end up trying to destroy me in the end.
x. i met a film professor from York today & she wants me to contact her if i get into the program because she thinks my dissertation work sounds original and exciting! & she seems really cool.
x. i just lovelovelovelove my gang. we’ve come together so nicely.
x. i hate washing my hair more than most things in life.
x. i have two more applications to send out & then i just wait.
x. french class is amazing & reiterates my need for organized education & i’m ok with needing that.
x. J finally got me into Battlestar Gallactica & now I want to roleplay with him as Gaius Baltar & me as Number 6. J has longish dark hair. I have a deep voice. It’s already all in my head waiting to release.
We talked today. Somehow today he appeared on my MSN list. Somehow today I thought I saw him on the subway platform.
I made him laugh when he didn’t want to. Then we tried to out-verbose each other with our observations on the Obama inauguration, rabble.ca, transparency, the spelling of ‘sentence’, how i love beards pon the face, how it’s all gone tits up for him and how typical in my contradictions I am when I recalled that I hated Berlin when I went to visit and my favorite part was dancing (on the Marx & Engels statue) with my homeboys and almost falling over. It’s been over two years since we spoke. I think. Since early summer 2006 I think. Our repartee withholds time because he like me will never change.
I want to go on my birthright trip before it is too late. I think it’s already too late.
Flash in the Can Toronto 2009 is holding a contest for women to submit Youtube videos on why they should get a free ticket. The first 100 entries get accepted. I hope I made it in on time. Here is my ultra nerdy contribution.
I shouldn’t let coke-head mother fucking spineless lying assholes get to me, but I can’t fucking stand it when people talk shit about people I love, especially the one that I love the most. It is in those moments, my fervent loyalty goes overboard.
…
I feel sick to my stomach thinking about how a close friend that showed me they cared for me greatly & would be there for me (as i have been nothing but there for them through everything) has totally switched gears to be loyal to someone who has done nothing but talk shit about me & also not be supportive of them either. guh.
People are so fickle and have no backbone sometimes…
maybe i shouldn’t be so upset, maybe i should just remind myself of how weak this friend is, if they are able to do all that. but unlike them, i hold onto friendships and my own feelings zealously..
Funny enough the person I am talking about at the beginning of this post, is the same person I am referencing in the second part. However, the second part I wrote a while ago. But shitty people usually stay shitty.
I just need to cut all ties with those who aren’t everything to me & won’y stick up for me or him when needed. Why bother with anything less?
Maybe I won’t be as ambitious as the guys who built these in Queens, NYE but I’d love to have some sort of proper bass propping me through my rides around the city. What about dismounting it every time I lock my bike up though? It wouldn’t be so feasible to carry speakers around with me. I need a bike guard. Fantasies always get squashed by practicalities. Just imagining Commix’s Underwater Scene blasting and letting everyone know I’m rolling through.
No one could test the ultimate fuck-offness of it all.
Check out the trailer for Made in Queens, a documentary about the friends who rigged bmx bikes to make every ride an ultimate dance party.
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I sometimes post music links. If you want yours taken down let me know. & for the rest of you, if you don't buy music & just d/l links, you should feel like an asshole.
x. it freaks me out to clean my bum when i have nail polish on.
