make up is my drag

i love how i'm less of a butch for being a fag and liking make up. life sucks.


my colour selections as of late... none of which i wear daily, but fuck they look nice.


sans make up. hurrah for german and scotish genetics leaving me with a red face all the time...

tom waits on a sunday evening

CLAP HANDS - Tom Waits from the album "Rain Dogs"

Sane, sane, they're all insane,
fireman's blind, the conductor is lame
A Cincinnati jacket and a sad-luck dame
Hanging out the window with a bottle full of rain
Clap hands, clap hands, clap hands, clap hands

Said roar, roar, the thunder and the roar
Son of a bitch is never coming back here no more
The moon in the window and a bird on the pole
We can always find a millionaire to shovel all the coal
Clap hands, clap hands, clap hands, clap hands

Said steam, steam, a hundred bad dreams
Going up to Harlem with a pistol in his jeans
A fifty-dollar bill inside a palladin's hat
And nobody's sure where Mr. Knickerbocker's at

Roar, roar, the thunder and the roar
Son of a bitch is never coming back here no more
Moon in the window and a bird on the pole
Can always find a millionaire to shovel all the coal
Clap hands, clap hands, clap hands, clap hands

I said steam, steam, a hundred bad dreams
Going up to Harlem with a pistol in his jeans
A fifty-dollar bill inside a palladin's hat
And nobody's sure where Mr. Knickerbocker's at

Shine, shine, a Roosevelt dime
All the way to Baltimore and running out of time
Salvation Army seemed to wind up in the hole
They all went to heaven in a little row boat
Clap hands, clap hands, clap hands, clap hands
Clap hands, clap hands, clap hands, clap hands
Clap hands, clap hands, clap hands, clap hands

blargh.... stupid summer cold

meow?

i had convinced Anthony to endure a schvitz with me. he sulked with a towel over his head as i leered at a guy who was getting up and conveniently let his towel fall off.
"Mmhmm... God damn I knew a schvitz would do us good."
"It's a sauna... stop calling it a schmit."
"SCHVITZ. If I wanted a fucking sauna, we'd be at the motherfucking YMCA."
"It's hot, it's steamy, we're in towels, it's a sauna."
"Gentile..."
"Sorry," he flipped the edge of the towel up to make eye contact. "I didn't catch that."
"You heard me."
"This isn't as relaxing when you're talking the whole time."
"It's not relaxing because you keep cock-blocking me every time i try to cruise someone!"
"And that's another thing, I can't believe you took me to a gay sauna!"
"I told you the options for prices... You opted for the cheapest one and here we are! Cleanest sheets this side of the south side."
"No talking. I'm going to steam here with this towel over my face and that's final."

Silently we sat. I adjusted my ass on the wooden slats of the bench and wondered if someone else would come in. reaching for a jar I ground sea salt into my shoulders. The crunching sound mixed in with my pleasured murmurs turned Anthony on a little. Either that or he wanted to make sure I still had my towel on.
"Can I have that when you're done?"
"Oh sure.... Good for the aching joints although I don't know if it'll help you stop being a lame old horse."
"Fucking... give them to me!" His fingers wiggled impatiently for me to pass it over.
"You're my little hijab-wearing buddy aren't you?"
"Salt me, now."
Plunking the jar down into the palm of his hand he worked out a palmful and scoured it into his chest.
I sighed and finally settled down to relax a little. I was wound up tight and i hoped the steam would ground me a little in reality. Nothing but my throbbing thoughts and thick lines of sweat rolling off me. I swear it smelled a little like pine as the thc oozed out of any available pore.
quiet now. see? i can shut up sometimes...
the steam didn't let up and i felt a sense of peace. if i sat still long enough i could fool myself into thinking that i was in a sweat lodge. if only for a minute.... if only there was a little bit of fresh cut cedar to inhale.
"So... Who called last night?"
"Why?"
"It looked like a Seattle area code."
"Looked like or you researched it to find out?"
"The latter."
"Yeah it was a Seattle number."
"You're not talking to Roy are you?"
"No and fuck off you nosey old thing."
"It's just... why would you talk to someone who beat you up?"
"Na-na-na-na no. Roy never beat me. You're thinking of Roger."
"Oh."
"Roy was the one I was going to move in with."
"Oh... I... Oh."
"Asshole."
"I deserve that."
"Ruin my schvitz..."
"I'm sorry! I thought that was the one who beat you up."
"Concern duly noted."
"Well... Shit. Why were you calling Roy anyway?"
"Don't turn this back on me, boy!"
"Seriously! I want to know. You'll tell me anyway."
fuck him for knowing i can't stop blabbering everything to him in the end
"He wanted to make sure I got home ok."
"He knew that you were in Halifax this week?"
"See, it's about Halifax..."
The towel lifted and his beady dark eyes fixed on me leaning to the side and biting my lip. "I didn't go to Halifax last week for business..."
"You... what?!"
"I went to Seattle for Roy's wedding."
No words, just aghast.
"How the hell could you afford the plane ticket?! the hotel room!"
"Air miles."
"Air miles. You don't even have air miles!"
"Ya, but you have them."
"Sorry, WHAT?"
"Remember when you pranked me into thinking that a publishing company wanted to put out my anthology of photographs? And I said I would destroy you and get you back any way I could? Well it's not really MY fucking problem that your password is the FUCKING CAT'S name! Really. I've warned you to change it so it's not so obvious." cue image of anthony's computer desk surrounded by dozens of pictures of Shiraz
"oh... oh.... I had been saving those for so long..."
"Cheer up, a few more years and you'll be right back where you started and hopefully you won't have pissed me off by then."
"Oh... damn it..."
"So Inspector Clouseau, the reason a Seattle area code was on the call display was from my lovely hosts checking to make sure i got home ok. I brought you back a tshirt if that sweetens the situation."
He looked perturbed. But nothing excessive, he knew payback had to happen over the publishing deal fiasco. fuck, i called my AUNTS to tell them...
"If you want to have a fight right now I'm sure someone'd come in and jerk off watching."
"no thanks... I can't believe you used all my points..."
"Believe it. If you'd start showing the goods on a web cam I swear you'd be able to quit your job. We'd have to wax though... you know... everything."
"Shut up. I'll leave you here."
"OH NO! You might have to leave me in a gay bathhouse!"
"BATHHOUSE! That's fucking it... We're out of here."
"sit, sit. Another 20 minutes so we get the full relaxation benefits."
ah, damn, this was a great idea.

yet another bout of drum and bass on a saturday evening

it hits a nerve b/c i'm the northern version of Appalachian white trash...

twaddle

wait does anyone read this?

of course not. all i post are pictures and toothpastefordinner.com or nataliedee.com comics. still pretty rad considering what you could be looking at... so i'm saying kitty pictures trump the intraweb?! oy.

thanks for the cheese....

all you need in your medicine cabinet...

1 2 4

marriedtothesea.com

dub-music-and-bubble-gum-kind of sunday afternoon....

oh my god, that's it. all this time i've been trying to better myself for nothing. this whole time i haven't realized that i'm just a bad person! i deserve this! why have i been fighting it?
I was trapped at a table looking back at my ex and his new boy. my lip pinched under the pressure from my eye tooth. shit i should just rip a piece off and spew enough blood until they get up and leave. deep breath in and throw my gaze around the restaurant. nothing to save me from this. i'm too agreeable. i'd say it's one of my greatest character flaws.
i was hiding at a sushi bar downtown. now i know i always rant that i have run-ins in sushi joints, but it's always at the same one. i thought i would play it safe and go to the hardcore korean joint down in the ass-end of downtown. so hardcore in fact, i had to research the menu online a head of time to make sure i was ordering the right thing. research aside i had a fierce craving for raw fish and a can of Coke. plus this sushi joint had a wifi connection advertised so i could just hide away in a corner and stuff my face over blog entries. i had jammed a velvety square of white tuna in my mouth when i saw The Ex walking past the window. no. no way.... of all the fucking... he was too autistic to want to try new things... the New Boy pulled on his arm and ignored his ugly pouting face.
I tried to look distracted... the old, i didn't see ya sitting there! routine. The New Boy made me and loudly asked The Ex if he knew that "guy sitting alone over in the corner..."
Of course I have a scratchy head of unwashed hair jammed underneath one of The Ex's old hats. And of course, i have to be in one of his old sweaters... all rolled up in comfort... and also i didn't have anything else that was clean and/or socially acceptable to go outside in.
sipping at some green tea i quickly reached up to wipe at a trail that escaped from the corner of my mouth. lip stitched up after Anthony clocked me in the face with a pint glass in the middle of an animated story. it was crusty looking and further added to my troll-like appearance. you couldn't have even taken the 10 minutes to shave... you look like a homeless fag with a stolen laptop. i looked tired and you could read my eyes as they clearly screamed DON'T FUCKING COME SIT WITH ME... DON'T DO IT... DON'T DO IT...
The Ex waved gingerly and i waved back. The New Boy pushed through the crowded dining room to come over to me. I'm sure i looked suspect in an old police academy cadet sweater with BEAM stitched on the sleeve since it wasn't my last name... What a mind fuck. Him looking at the past... the old boyfriend who was no doubt the root cause of all The Ex's idiotic behaviour. I'm used to being a bad influence... but i could feel a little bit more confident sitting there knowing little boy buffed was a dud in bed. I leaned back and sized him up like an old letch.
"And you... are?"
"James. We've met."
"Right! Well fancy meeting you two here."
The Ex hung back. Smart enough to know i didn't want any company but still wanting to be in arms reach in case the baby tried to get in my face. he did have a penchant for thick and mouthy...
"He REFUSES to try anywhere new. It took me an hour to convince him."
"Well good for you... Using your words to get through to him, that's something I never thought of."
come on slut, leave me be. i don't need to deal with children tonight.
my BlackBerry whirred on the table covered in empty sushi dishes and bits of sashimi i hadn't stuffed in my mouth... a cell, two empty cans of coke and a $4000 laptop that I got at a reduced rate from work. The Ex eyeballed it similarly to how I stared at his current boyfriend.
"Look... I'm trying to, ah, multitask some work here. I should let you two..."
"There's no table for two left... look, they're seating people with other tables that have spare chairs. Let's sit with you."
Before I could whip a cup of hot tea in his crotch he was already seating himself. He stared me down hard. He knew what he was doing and he was going to make me pay dearly for being sloppy seconds after someone like me.
The Ex looked stunned and legitimately sorry as he sat across from me. A waitress came to pick up another sheet of orders for me and I hurriedly added some more on for them to join me.
I didn't have much to say. I finished up a paragraph on my laptop before I snapped it shut. I lovingly combed through my BlackBerry emails silently, even though they were all stupid spam... i didn't want to give that snotty cunt the impression i was going to try and impress him all night because i didn't have the guts to say no when he sat down. rolling through emails i reached out with my left hand to gather up my chopsticks and spear some fish to throw into my mouth. i enjoyed the delicious taste and holstered my BlackBerry to look up.
"Kid, you were the one that wanted to sit here... got anything interesting to talk about?"
"How about what happened to your face?"
"knife fight."
"Oh really?"
"Yeahuh. Knife fight. A pimp tried to rob me after i fucked this guy for money... blahdeeblah... You wouldn't want to know what happens in my daily life as a thief, drug addict and sex maniac."
The Ex leaned back and looked exasperated already. The New Boy just took it in stride and leaned forward. "No, really, what happened?"
"My common-law husband was drunk and in the middle of a fun-filled story about being at the gym and threw his hands back in a dramatic gesture. My face happened to be in the direct path of this gesture and he smacked a pint glass and his fraternity ring right here. Pssashhh! Man, it just blew the fuck up when it hit my face."
The boy sat back and shook his head. "I was just ASKING."
"what?! That's actually what happened!"
"I KNOW you're not married."
"It's not being married jackass, it's common law. We're married by default since we've been living together for so long." The boy looked to his man and got confirmation.
"Oh. You usually spin some line of bullshit when we're talking so you have to forgive me if i seem pessimistic."
I leaned back, letting my shoulders pull and really show off the battered sweater I had claimed from The Ex.
Here comes the food. I picked up some sweet shrimp and sucked it out of the shell.
this is painful....
The New Boy worked on a bit of salmon and put half of it down to address me. "We're going to Europe in the fall. Isn't that exciting?"
"Oh, loads. I'll have to get over there sometime."
"We get to go through work... It's an opportunity to see how different police forces work in the EU."
I love it. i fucking love it.
I spent a year with The Ex propping him up while he wasn't working... begging for a night out... something to reward me for being a therapist and trust fund all in one. do you ever feel like you're grooming your partner for greatness after you? that all your work to help them is only going to benefit the next ass they're pounding? why the fuck would i want The Ex to be open to try new things with me, when he can just hold out and do all that with the New Boy? I don't want to change anyone i'm dating, i'd just like to be eligible to reap the rewards of his new-found maturity instead of getting a news bulletin about it after... Breaking News: Your Ex Is Interesting Now That He's Not With You... And he also has money. More at 11.
The stitches felt dry and i wanted to lick at them. Thanks repetitive anxiety for making me fixate on this sort of stupid shit.....

my ari moment of zen

is it that i think he's hot or that i just really would like to have him for a dress up ken doll on speed?
i'll think about it.

retail flash baaaaaaack!!!

toothpastefordinner.com

this didn't really go anywhere

i fussed with a piece of sashimi. my chop sticks poked through the delicious layers of tuna meat but i couldn't bring myself to eat it.
Dan pecked at my hand with his sticks to get my attention.
"Yeah I know I'm poking at it. You don't like tuna anyway."
"People are going to think I broke up with you... sit up... you know, look... happy or more like you're getting dinner for free tonight."
"Right right." I straighted up in my chair and looked over his shoulder.
"You seemed like you were in an ok mood when i came to get you... was it something I said? Too many spider rolls and not enough Sapporo?"
I smiled a little and leaned back. What the fuck is my problem?
"Anything more on that boy?"
"No. Fuck... Dan, I told you, nothing's going to happen. I can't even bring myself to hang out now that he has a boyfriend. I just wait in terror that he's going to bring up some magical moment with me and I'm going to burst into tears. Last time I saw him he was going to make his man dinner and read pablo neruda to each other. I really thought I was going to collapse into his arms... What... why in the hell would i meet someone like this?"
"It's not working right now, maybe in the future..."
I pitched my chopsticks down and rubbed my eyes with my palms. "No Dan, there's not going to be a future... Don't you see the pattern of this conversation? You ask me how it's going, I get upset, you tell me to be hopeful and I tell you that you're existing in a dream world."
He looked hurt...

sunday morning nataliedee.com

nataliedee.com

the storm - doves

i put a stubby cigarette up to my lips and took in a drag. menthol and smooth... refreshing blend as per the package promise i read casually before i checked out the tar content. woof, don't look... these are much worse than the old ones i used to smoke...
Anthony tapped on the window and pointed a finger at me.
"What?! It's not in the goddamned house... leave me alone."
He began fighting with the window lock to pop it open. Struggling for a little bit I tried to coach him a little. "No, turn it left then push it up... UP! No, left then..." Gave up. For someone who had superior problem solving skills than me he wasn't very patient with mechanical applications. I turned back to my smoke and casually flipped through the pages of a DJ magazine i had picked up last time i took the bus into Toronto. Anthony came outside in running gear, no knee brace.
"Hey... you forget that you're old. Go get your brace or else you're going to be calling me from the sidewalk two houses down."
"I didn't bring my cell phone... it's too heavy."
"If you got a new one it wouldn't be a fucking 10 pound dead weight. Shit, that thing is like carting around half a phone book."
"It's not a high priority." He looked pissy and did a half-assed stretch.
"I gotta say, it's good that you're up and moving again at least."
"Don't. Don't start with this..."
"No, I'm not mad. Really." Long, deep drag. I casually twirled around my cigarette pack on the cool cement. Just to let him know it wasn't a few that I had got out of someone. It was the whole fucking pack. Well, what would have been a full pack and the other empty deck was jammed with a baggie of weed and a sweet little paper square of coke.
"Five months. You went five months without smoking and then you buy a pack out of spite?"
"I think they taste better with spite seasoning. Want to try? Come on, you might really like it." Waving it around a little he looked repulsed. "It's not like I'm coming at you with a piece of shit. Try it! Keep you thin and trim."
"Better ways to do that... Like exercise. Just MAYBE?!"
The magazine page made a sharp flipping noise. "Exercise will kill you too apparently."
"Don't... Fuck... F... Forget it. I'm out of here." He turned sharply to make a point and went rigid.
"Tisk, that must have been a sharp pain. Sharp AND stabbing? or just sharp?" He went to run and the left side of his body curved over. "Good one hop-along. Feel the burn!" Two more steps forwar and the curve became more pronounced.
"Anthony... Don't do it. Just come back." He straightened up and tried to look like it didn't feel like burning agony and he stopped at the end of the driveway. I quickly looked back at my magazine as he turned around. Quietly he came back only limping this time over to the stoop to sit beside me.
I worked on swallowing two lung fulls of smoke and blotted out the cigarette. "Kinda feels like a kick in the head to spend SO much time pulling on those gaylord spandex running pants for nothing huh?"
He put his head down to his knees. Prick was much more flexible than I could ever hope to be. I resisted the urge to yank out a strand of grey hair. That would just be overkill. He'd beat himself up mentally without much help from me.
My BlackBerry hummed on the stoop and began to do a little dance moving around. I popped it out of the carrying case and checked the call display. Elbowing Anthony he looked up to see a large screen lit up with "Dan" on it. He went to stand up suddenly to leave in a huff but didn't get far. Oh good... you're not going anywhere so I'm totally answering this!
"moshi moshi? hey... yeah? oh yeah? that sounds cute... hmm... well i did just eat. i guess i could do that. or... no that works for me. half hour? ok. lates."
Anthony still had his head down to his lap.
"Hey, I've never asked you... Can you like, blow yourself?"
"Shut. Up. Yoga is my relaxation exercise not some sicko sexual thing."
"Man, I'd never leave the house. I'm serious. I'd like to think that I wouldn't act like that, but it'd be a few weeks at LEAST. The novelty of being able to do it would be..."
He sighed. "What are you doing with Dan? Please tell me he's not coming over here."
"No, wouldn't dream of it. He'll come pick me up but he won't come in."
"Good."
"He'd probably be a good person to talk to about your injury... you... know... OK so it sounded like a stupid idea the minute I said it out loud."
He wrapped his arms under his thighs to hug himself a bit in his typical mildly autistic way. "Where're you going for dinner?"
"You're not invited."
he turned his head to look at me. "I know I'm not invited... Just wanted to know where you're going that's all."
"Sushi. Where else? You can't actually get up can you?"
"No... It's ah, it's pretty locked up right now. I think I'm on the verge of either a leg cramp or maybe it'll just fall off."
I stood up to line myself up in front of him. I crouched down with my knees and snapped my fingers to get him cognisant of what was going to happen. Deep sigh and he raised up his arms for me to fix my forearms underneath each armpit. "On three, lean GENTLY into me and try to push up into a standing position. One, two, threeeeeaaaaaaaaghhhhhhhh!!!" He groaned and I was surprised how much weight he put on me even though he was clearly trying to do most of the work on his own.
"SHIT! you get physio paid for through work... You go on Monday or I'm going to leave you next time I see that you can't stand up." He looked a little dazed and I shook him a little.
"Don't go to dinner with Dan."
"what?"
"Sorry... I don't know why I said that."
"Seriously? If you don't want me to go I can call right now."
He looked into my face but I couldn't read him. "I'm fine. I'm fine and it's ok... Just don't listen to me."
Hobbling to back porch he went inside. I should have gotten him to take the magazine in... Smokes too. Dan'll kill me if he sees that I bought a pack, even if it was for a good reason.

BEAR THREAT-DOWN!!!

this sheds some light on how i turned out...

toothpastefordinner.com



this one's just fucking funny...

marriedtothesea.com

i had to edit this blog title because i kept getting google hits for @ssholes looking for the search term "sexy cutoffs"... sheesh

mix-o for a person-o who doesn't know-o... ah fuck it.

our robot masters... mix

cold war kids - we used to vacation
tokyo police club - citizens of tomorrow
ghostland observatory - sad sad city
tom waits - shoreleave
apostle of hustle - energy of death
the rapture - done gone do it
ratatat - tropicana
sloan - the lines you amend
radiohead - morning bell
...and you will know us by the trail of dead - claire de lune
esthero - lounge
the good, the bad and the queen - herculean
grizzly bear - central and remote
apostle of hustle - kings and queens
turin breaks - stone thrown
doves - the storm
gus gus - polyesterday
boards of canada - dayvan cowboy

herculean

i shifted in a cross-legged pose on the floor. my leg would be numb soon but i couldn't bear to stretch loose... that and there wasn't any room. my arms stretched out to pop some air between joints and i yawned a little. as i leaned back i could feel squares of paper spin slowly as my jeans touched them. straightening up i looked around me... a radiating pattern of tiny hand-made paper squares surrounding the tiny space around me and my typewriter. i fished out a small flask of whiskey from my cardigan pocket and took a sip. too bad i didn't have enough sense to bring a pack of gum with me.
my inner dialogue had a conflict... you mean, you care more about a spongy square of gum than the fact that you've surrounded yourself with paper and poetry?
what's wrong with a little creativity?
it's 4am... and you've been doing this since 2 in the afternoon!
that's not crazy. that's just getting the creative juices flowing.
when was the last time you drank water? took a break? stood up? your knees are about to fuse together...
i have everything i need right here, except for the gum. rationed booze, typewriter and lots of little squares to fill up with words...
isn't it distressing to pour yourself into this all in one night?
rising to the occasion?
no, you're going nuts and you compulsively stayed up working on anxious bits of art.
ah, yeah that's one way of looking at it. i never get the house to myself, why can't i stretch out with no cats to fuck about with supplies? no roommate to grump about the clacking keys for hours... the vague smell of carbon paper and sand that the typewriter makes when it's been running too long... why not get it all packed into one night?
looking around if someone walked in, this would look like a whole mess of crazy. i twisted the silver cap off the flask again for a lip-searing gulp. now i feel a little shakey... a little worn out from throwing myself into 4 to 10 lines of poetry hammered out onto squares... wood cut-like images of crows, frogs and hunched over bears... all put on as i was driven by subliminal thoughts of you-know-who... thinking about you-know-what... going stark raving something... something...