"unknown brother" - the black keys

baseball has been a late in life indulgence. i never gave a shit about it until i turned 30. that's a lot of time to turn your nose up at something.

being a hockey fanatic means i enjoy the creamy load of sporting events that's fast paced and involves fist fights. i don't get basketball... worse still is my understanding of football. why the fuck do they keep blowing the whistle? i don't even know.

all of this aside, baseball was something that i went to see live once every couple of years to service as a night out of Waterloo. always involving skipping off work early to beat traffic, stressing over getting to Toronto and the frantic search to stuff food into my mouth & make it to the game for the first pitch. more of a novelty and the motivating factor stemmed from having time to chat with my roommate and clap occasionally.

we had fantastic chats up in the cheap seats sans beer, the weed i smoked before leaving waterloo long disappated and sobriety bleeding through. way back when SARS devastated toronto's tourist industry Jays tickets were for the most part free save for a service fee. i was just getting over a cold & had a barky cough. nothing like SARS but it was beautiful to let loose a cough and have 4 rows of people around us scatter. marooned in our own oasis of seats we laid into graphic chats. i took the time to lovingly detail what being a domanatrix involves to my then roommate.
"so you're saying my biggest overhead is buying the outfits?"
"that and you'll have to get an arrangement with a hotel to trick out of it. it's more like a pay off. so i don't know how much that'd be."
"but i don't have sex with the guys?"
"no. you just beat the shit out of them. you'd love doing that. well, maybe you'd have to pee on them."
"nope."
"don't be a fucking baby. you're still not having sex with them & no need to take a bathroom break."
"i dunno. i don't think it's going to happen."
"what if i showed you some outfits?"
"i don't think i have the body for them."
[tit-face... she's beautiful & spent hours at the gym but still saw a fat kid in the mirror]
"that's the beauty of it! you get strapped into this PVC & leather get up and it does all the work for you! i know you can clip around in high heels and that's most of the battle. do you think you can balance on one leg?"
"what for?"
[pausing to watch a ball zing into the foul zone]
"get the guy to lay on the floor and have him suck on the heel of your boot."
"huh, i think i can balance long enough for that."
"i'm not telling you to be a dom, i'm just saying the option is always there."
"something to think about...."

many moons later i moved to Toronto. with my health in shambles and low on cash i would eat my $4 falafel and fantasize about when i'd be able to see a baseball game... a concert... buy new socks.... anything but have an $8 a day budget. the idea of seeing baseball became a type of pastoral myth of something that happened in the good old days and became layered with a lot of frills. beer. hotdogs. screaming at players knowing that Toronto has one of the worst/best fields for players hearing fans in the stands.

work came and i started building myself back up. i didn't have to be a shut in with fragile health problems erupting out of me every other week... and most important of all: there was no fucking excuse NOT to go to a game. if i can find a place using the TTC a brain damaged monkey could. there's not even a rush after work. you can take your sweet ass time to get some food & party favors down your gullet before leisurely stepping into a cab to get dropped off.

my homeboy moved to the city a few months after me. he's the slutty little sister i never wanted but learned to love. he's a tuffy twink who could hang with any straight dudes and give a handjob to a lithe 20 year old at the same time. being a flakey libra i love people who can balance two types of seeming extremes. just makes for a well-rounded partner in crime.

after twink face moved we both realized that instead of talking over baseball when it was on tv i was watching.
"at first i thought it was like when the dog stares at the tv when The Dog Whisperer is on... but i think you're actually following it."
"no way man, just waiting to see if the camera throws it to a hot chick in the stands."
this dismissive attitude would be followed minutes later with a question about what the commentators were saying. parsing through the lingo i would add it to the memory bank and then integrate it into curses i would hurl at the screen when someone fucked up. this usually followed the second bottle of prosecco that we split.

we made an agreement to catch a few games over the year and thus far we're doing well. 5 under our belts and 3 were staggeringly good. i didn't fully GET why they were so good other than it was a good opportunity to jump up and down.

at a slower game we found ourselves beached in a sparsely populated section sucking back over priced beers & floating in a haze of green. we leaned forward to peer over our fiefdom of the 200's and the straight view to the outfield. from behind it would look like a skinny guy took his fat frat boy buddy to a game and the shit that spewed out of our mouths would make your skin crawl.

Twink face is a good teacher and lovingly told me about players and why they deserved our ire. an ex-Toronto player loped out to the outfield and turned around to face the game. a guttural boo thundered out of TF and i screamed, "YOU'RE A FUCKING CANDYASS, RIOS!" if there's a god, our dulcet chimpanzee screams wafted down & hung over their heads like stink.

More beer and the luxury of relaxing with our arms stretched out in an empty space. as kind as i am, there's still a tiny part of me that's a raging asshole who wants to tell an opposing team player that i'm going to finger bang his wife tonight.

there's really no age cutoff to develop a taste for frivolous events. never going to get football tho. that's just stupid.

queen street station

so i've been in toronto for just over a month now. still looking for work, still broke but mysteriously not at all freaking out. when i had tons of money to burn i was flipping out about something or just being an anxious mess... sure i need to churn something up for work soon, but even then i'm not freaking out. it'll happen.

more importantly, i'm not freaking out about the move. friends, those who, er, shall we say enjoy schadenfreude a bit too much... haven't been especially cool about it. i don't get questions on if i'm happy or not. only "you must hate it" or my favourite, "so do you regret it?" come on, shitheads. i revel in the misery of others too, but not overtly. i pull the George Castanza and firmly believe that i don't do that shit to people's faces. so, still sniveling, but a classy one? ok i got nothing. still, the fact remains that some people are nibbling on their nails waiting for this whole thing to fall flat. NOT EVERYONE! if you're pouting i don't mean you. jesus. go see what's on tv and get a life instead of dwelling on this.

ANYWHO, so yeah. i have some mopey chums waiting for this whole thing to die a slow death. and you know what? it might! or i might really enjoy myself here and never leave. or stay for 10 years, snap and move to the middle of nowhere. i have options. and that's the point. i'll take things as it comes.

and i can chalk it up to jealousy, but why?! who the fuck would be envious of me being a total r-tard quitting my cushy & shingles-inducing job and moving to a totally new city? who knows. i keep my distance and i think i'll work really hard to stay out of waterloo for a while so avoid feeling like i should have opted for something safe and comfy.

my moment of the day came after a haircut. i freaked 3 weeks ago and got my mane chopped at a hairdressing school. and while it was classified as "adequate" for the first week, it soon turned into "fucking ugly uneven picket fence i'm going to wear a beanie forever to hide it". not good. i lined up a job interview for next week and let's be honest, i'm not batting at a high average here look-wise so i pony up with nice hair and totally bukkake the interviewer with my wit & poise. not even being stuck up, i do well in interviews.

whatever.

so i put the feelers out for a good hairstylist and my neighbour/my roommate's ex boyfriend's roommate's boyfriend [yeah you just try to keep up] was suggested. he lovingly took my hair from horror show to something very stylish and sleek. tho i noted that my grey hair has gone from a smattering to supernova rapid growth. sigh. after getting that done i had to take the subway home from Queen street. i... had to ask someone where the station was. SHUT UP! he was tickled that i was polite and didn't ask him for change so it was a good stranger interaction. on the subway, after checking my blackberry 10 times that i was on the right platform, i hopped on and put on a stony face while standing. looking at myself in the window as the stations zipped by i got to indulge in my latent vanity checking out my new hurrrr... and then it hit me.

"you're in toronto. you LIVE in toronto. full time. this isn't just a weekend trip. you live here, bitch."

wow! ton of bricks. like, i've been happy but i don't think it clicked up until that moment. i wound up grinning and scaring the shit out of two chicks in front of me... but hey, it was a good thing. i waived to them when they got off at the next stop.

so i'm making friends all over the city.

fun stuff!

to be continued.

CL ad... and yes, this is real

"don't be hating on me because i'm getting all the love from this ad."
he was horrified. sticking a bloody turd in his ear would have garnered less of a reaction.
"oh PLEASE i am not going to get jealous over you on craigslist."
i leaned back on the couch and popped some air out of my spine.
"no no, i know it's tough to swallow my creamy load of creativity sometimes. especially since you know i wrote a better one than you did."
he pushed his newly purchased glassed up his nose and sniffed. "i don't HAVE a craigslist post."
"liar. liar and charlatan."
"i don't need to rely on seedy websites to get laid."
"oohhhhhh SURE stick the knife in. wah wah, i can't get a guy to suck my dick at the bar, instead we just text for a half hour and decide who's hosting. you're so accurate. my way is just deplorable."
"sometimes i think you perceive me as a total slut!"
"quacks like a duck... makes the younger duck swallow on the first date... looks like a duck..."
he pinched his lips a little and tapped on his tea mug. we were both feeling irritated and awkward talking without any wine. we still drank behind each others backs, just nothing overt. i'll tell you, the amount of mouthwash we gargle with is staggering. i imagine it smells like rubbing alcohol and fermented grapes that fell behind a radiator all the time. but the point is we were being responsible liars.
"i don't think you're a slut. slut is a state of mind, you know? just that you get tail when you want it, i have to do a little bit of leg work."
Blip. my phone went off again. another email.
since i posted my craigslist ad i had received at least 4 to 7 emails a day responding. i had confessed to brad and i knew the brat had done an ad for himself with little response thus far. stellar.
getting older and also not getting laid for a long time had lead me to getting irritatingly horny. it was almost chemical at this point. i was like a grumpy terrier growling and giving the shank eye all the time. i jerked off 4 times a day, which is a huge increase since i can go 2 to 3 days without needing it. i will always be a camel with orgasms. i don't shrivel and die if i don't get laid... fuck, if that was the case i would have perished a long time ago.
still, i do have my limits. thusly we come to me at this stage in my life. i get hard using the toaster. i burned through all my good spank lube that usually lasts me months in 4 weeks. i was irritated with porn because it was never hard or nasty enough and found myself in the ennui of smut apathy. i had been getting a ton of coffee dates with Nice Boys who all wanted to get to know me before we got fucking. nice.
my wank sessions had been out of control. short of inviting a midget, it was a free for all in my brain. i had been burning for a guy to bottom for me but i had also been thinking about women. a lot. i've fooled around with a chick before but it was so boring it made me want to just call it off and go cum in the bathroom by myself. but these days i was so hot to trot i couldn't stop thinking about chicks either.
i had taken the time to craft something that would catch people's eyes. i didn't want to get the usual menagerie of swingers and sex addicts....
m/wm - 30 - downtown
queer guy who's curious about having a nite in with a couple. not
looking for swingers per se, but curious to know if there's any
nerdy/cute hipsters pref. on the chubby side. this is because i'm
chubby so if that's not yer cup of tea, no worries!
i'd like to fool around with a couple and really enjoy that dynamic of
having fun. NSA, laid back and willing to meet up first.
one little ad, so many replies. it was nuts. sure there were a ton of skeevy jerks but astoundingly, there were amazing people who wrote back. you just got the impression that the post snared a lot of people who wouldn't normally go trolling around for a threesome. the pictures ranged from adequate to luscious. some just wanted dirty email exchanges... a couple did call me to make plans to meet up. nothing had progressed yet, but i had an inbox full of potential meet ups and some luscious pic exchanges. shit, even if they were fakes it was thrilling enough to fantasize about.
i was bursting with thoughts and asking about if i was more likely to be murdered & raped [yes i'm aware of the order i put that in] in a hotel room or if i should meet up at a house after a bar meet & greet. Brad seemed bemused thinking that i wouldn't get too far but turned horrified when i was actually taking my pick and discussing the finer points of what i wanted to experience.
i didn't have the heart to tell him i was pretty sure i had been emailing his older brother & his bi girlfriend for the better part of 3 days. like, it might be him? maybe? no need to worry until i get a last name. which, amazingly, life on the internet dictates i get a cock picture THEN a last name.

one month out of a bag - click images for better resolution pics

so... for those not in the know, i've been a smidgen homeless this month. i was trying to get a new place for September but that totally fell through trying to compete with students. i took the plunge and couch surfed for September and i'm no worse for wear.

i had no idea just how homeless i was going to be. i didn't know if i would literally be on my own bouncing to multiple places or if i'd be lucky enough to stay put.

the latter was the case. for 2.5 weeks i looked after my friends 1 bedroom while he was in Europe. from there i've been able to stay with another friend. 85% of the week he's staying with his girlfriend so i have the place to myself and access to laundry.

before i moved i ordered the largest duffle from MEC. it could fit 2 twinkies or one tall guy if you chopped the legs and arms off to pack in around the head & torso. this won't seem morbid if you've ever gone purse shopping with me. i literally ask the sales staff how many adult male heads can fit in it. nothing to do with man hating, just to make it clear i'm looking for a larger circumference of a head. plus i freaking hate someone hovering over me buying a purse [i buy 2 a year and it's a big fucking deal when i get one] so it's startling enough to gain some space.

well, back to the story at hand.

i'm too much of a fucking princess to actually live lean. like i had these big visions of having a toothbrush, a pair of boxers, panties & 2 pairs of socks. then a pair of jeans and 1 tshirt. naturally, this was utterly retarded for me to think of since i'm a closeted princess. more like a prince. in that faggy kind of way. nothing to do with girlish endeavours, purely panic over not having all my shit within arms reach.

now i'm really fucked to try and cart this shit TO toronto... i'll have to come up with something.

anywho, i realized the spinal cord twisting monstrostity of a duffle bag was totally a waste. i only wore a handful of outfits over and over again. i decided to take on a little project as a strict reminder that i can live off of FAR FAR less if i need to couch surf again. the only thing not taken pics are the 2 pairs of jeans, one pair of black capris and my 3/4 length board shorts that i wore. add boxers, boxer briefs and some y-fronts [as dave chappelle would say, i "wear underwear wit dick holes in 'em] for gitches.

now, this would just be a small endeavor, but i JUST so happen to be staying with a friend who has a sewing dummy in his living room. he found it at the curb to be trashed!! jesus, i think these things are expensive. it doesn't adjust like new but it's surprisingly cool. i couldn't pass up an excuse to use it.

i KNOW i have the same outfits just in different colours... but that's the point. i love them so much they never make it more than 3 days without me caving and wearing them. tho i seem to consistently wear them around animals and getting them furred to oblivion after one day of wear.

here we go... all i really needed to pack to wear while everything was in storage.


American Apparel - The Summer Shirt: i worship these. this is the sluttiest style i have in shirts and they require me to skip my usual sports bra in lieu of a push up. i have them in multiple colours. i am a loser.


American Apparel - Unisex Tri-Blend Cardigan
i wash these like tshirts, incredibly rough on them and i have it in 3 colours. again, i can't justify it, but they look nice, feel nice and they can stand up to me washing them every goddamn week,


American Apparel - The Track Shirt - again, this shirt, multiple colours. they're so soft. they feel like the old shirts my dad gave me from the 70's/early 80's. that uber worn cotton feel but not transparent. they look good on my boxy/thick torso and hang juuuuuuuuust right.


Elements - Reversible hoodie with thumb holes, double lined. this is a hoodie i don't stray from for very long. the kid at the store sold it to me wearing it saying, "man, it's like business on the one side, party town on the inside! admittedly i don't really wear the loud pattern on the outside often, but it looks great poking out. the hood is a perfect cut for my pumpkin head and anything with thumb holes makes me happy.


Joe Clothing - Loblaws clothing section... $19 and again, wash it like a tshirt/really tough on it. this is my fall back thin sweater choice. fits me nicely and i will wear it for business formal over a collared shirt but most likely with jeans. not much else to say other than it was stupid cheap and from a grocery store.


Kukuxumusu - tshirt store from Spain. my friend brought this back from Barcelona for me. beyond the cute design, this one fits me perfect. i do pick and choose when i wear it due to the stoned sheepie, but it's a default "hey i don't mind advertising i'm a massive pothead who enjoys humourous comics."


http://www.kukuxumusu.com/shop/ highly recommend checking them out! i have other shirts and they're all super well made & obnoxious. check and check!


Ashbury tshirt. this was a rando find in a skateboard shop. because i'm always 16 and shop in stores for teenage boys. the line is a cool psychadelic vibe compaired to the usual urban and earthy imagery used in a lot of skate stuff. i have another in red of a mod dude in a cowboy hat pointing a gun. you are a better person for knowing this.


any time i do laundry i have about 15 1 inch pins to take off... this one was made by my friend. hairless twink ass with sparkly pink speedos. sometimes people see it from a distance and ask if it's a chick. if you know me really well, you'll know that odds are always it's gay boy shit.


this is not a test. this is the same damn caridgan and the Track Shirt from American Apparel. the tshirt is my absolute fave of the moment. i usually shirk away from red tones because i'm so Scottish and red-faced all the fucking time, but this one works. this is a newer colour in the cardigans... and... you guessed it. love it.


i will blow your mind... American Apparel Acid Wash Flex Fleece Hoodie. i can understand that this straddles ugly and questionable. when i picked it up off the sale rack it stunned me how super soft it is. and once i pulled it on, deal done. I would pay $19 for this, but not the $50 fucking dollars full price. i have no idea why i get stuck up about that but pay $50 for a cardigan... well, whatever.


American Apparel Track Shirt in black. i could buy 5 of these and wear them as an undershirt until the end of time. THE END OF TIME!!

that's it man. i could have just left them in a knap sack and i would have been fine. oh well, live, learn, realize you embarrassingly only wear the same outfit incarnation all the time.

don't laugh.... it's actually mostly true

i find spooky stuff fascinating. i'm not at all sensitive to spirts of creepy residual feelings. my stoic side will tell you publicly it's all bullcrap. my inner flaky hippy cries out that there HAS to be something else out there.

i'm the type who would love to have a supernatural experience, but probably too blunt to catch things. it really has to slap me in the mouth.

in highschool i was dating a girl who came from a long line of Scots who fancied themselves as psychic or at the very least, sensitive to the residuals of something beyond memory and history. she read a mean and thorough tarot, even though i admit that's 90% cold reading a person.

she was a beautiful soul, but was terrified at me loping after the chance to experience some sort of ghastly apparition. she cringed and tried to tell me that no one should look for this stuff. it sat heavily on her and thought it ignorant to be an eager explorer.

a mutual friend had recently moved into a new home. well, new for her. the home had been part of the original 200 homes in my local community. i melt in Victorian era homes. the wood, the sounds, the layouts... an infinite realm for me to explore and i was hyper to get snooping. we walked in the door and i was giddy to get the tour. my ex stopped and stood up from untying her shoes.

"let's GO! i want to see what's in Heather's place!"

she was rigid and looked right past me.

"i'm not coming in. we can't go in. let's go. my mom is probably still in the driveway."

being my first little f-ed up highschool relationship i naturally wasn't well-skilled at being a positive partner.

"fuck this! everyone's coming over tonight. i'm not having a fight here in the front hall!"

she was a very passive and easy-going chick but she got hard real fast. "i'm NOT staying. it's..."

"it's what?"

"it's too sad. we can't stay."

she said it with little feeling beyond a tremulous waiver over the word sad.

captain dickbag me just threw my hands up and walked into the house. "you can sit here or you can come in."

she wouldn't move. wouldn't even take her shoes off. heather came to see what was taking us so damn long to come in. i made a joke that we had someone who'd seen too many Scooby Doo episodes and was worried about the mystery of the haunted yellow house.

heather gave a laugh. "i know, old houses are scary. come in with us and we'll take a walk. if you're too scared, hey, it's ok. just give it a chance."

she agreed but only if she could keep her shoes on.

into the house for a look-see. to die for. modern updates bookended with original wood floors and a staircase banister that could have supported a chorus line of girls sliding down it.

i was in heaven but my lady was still upset. she would sit in the living room but there were specific rooms she couldn't walk into. the upstairs bathroom, the study and the sun room were all off limits. she said she couldn't stand to be in them without feeling sick.

tour over, and the rest of the party began trickling in. we warmed my ex up with some drinks and typical nattering banter that happens when 16 year old chicks get into a room with wine coolers. we voted to chuck on a movie for a while before we piled out to be riff raff in the community.

it was something dramatic as i know we were all very quiet watching it. booze makes for multiple trips to the bathroom so no one batted an eye if someone got up to leave. heather just asked that we stuck to the downstairs bathroom to keep the general population out of her parents room and her dad's office.

in the lulled state of staring, i clearly heard someone walk up the stairs. there's no mistaking the creak of wood that old. left foot, right foot, hand on railing daisy chaining upwards. heather absently said over her shoulder, "hey man, don't use the upstairs one after this time, ok?"

none of us responded because, well, we weren't the one going upstairs.

the footsteps went up the stairs, down the hall. floorboards flexing and crunching overhead. then a swift slam of the bathroom door. the thud was jolting. none of us would be that ignorant to swing a door shut like that... right?

a friend asked, "hey, who *is* upstairs?"

taking stock we all looked around. all 8 present and accounted for. right? or...? we had to be drunk and missing someone. nope. that's all of us.

many perplexed faces and the final ruling was that simply it was the house percolating with noises and an open window plus a gust of air slammed the bathroom door shut. i wasn't buying into it. a house doesn't churn out the sound of someone mounting the stairs to go to a specific destination in the house. my ex looked beyond nervous and stood up suddenly.

"i gotta go home... right now."

heather talked her down off the ledge again. it was just a noise. it's nothing to worry about... don't stress. she agreed to stay and i reaped the reward of soothing a disturbed damsel.

a night plying ourselves with liquor scrubbed the incident from our minds temporarily and it drowned as the night rolled on.

the next morning my mom picked us both up. when i came out she was out of her truck and gawking at the house.

"amazing! my best friend Nina lived here when she was a kid! i can't believe you know someone who has it now."

we hopped into the truck and mom went off about how much she loved that house as a child. so much room and everything spoke to her imagination, just knowing how old it was.

i know my mom didn't grow up very wealthy, let alone Nina.

"how on earth did Nina's parents afford that house?"

"oh... real sad story. the previous owner hung himself in the bathroom so the house sold for cheap."

my ex covered her mouth and i was just stunned. that noise? those footsteps? the door slamming?

the sound of some ghostly entity who forever would walk up the stairs, down the hall and into the bathroom to die.

children in the wards

the psych hospital i worked at was a strange entity. most people see a nuthouse as a place where you get to leave. eventually. good behavior, rehabilitated...something that would allow you to get a pardon. where i was could be labelled a long-term care facility. as in, you came and you weren't leaving.

as shifts in how one deals with the mentally ill came, so did theories on how the patients needed to be treated. from en mass wards, to apartment style to the final push out into community-based group homes, many of the patients had suffered through all these various phases.

the one major aspect of the hospital was how it had a policy back in the day to never turn a patient away. regardless of age or severity or medical cost, they were admitted. and you didn't have to be a specific age or even demonstrate some sort of disorder. sign the papers and the deal was done. not to say it was all this scenario, but a few sad cases were from this old policy.

there was even a train stop behind the grounds that people could take. in the depression the stop was forever releasing tired clusters of people walking to the main administration building. many of them bringing children that they couldn't look after any more.

and to be clear, some of these kids had nothing wrong with them. families took stock of all the kids and decided which one would be the most disposable. the one who could be turned loose to free up some resources. can you imagine being taken onto a train with no explanation and marched into a building to sit and wait? you'd watch a parent or both of them leave the office with some papers and wonder what was going to happen. any child would hop off the chair, assuming they're going to follow their parents. but they would be held back and a new life started without any clear end in sight.

some parents tried to come up with a lie, some just walked. an old timer who had worked at the hospital talked about these passed on stories. children stunned and then screaming as they were pulled back from the doors. and that was it.

some kids did have something "wrong" but that was a wildly diverse diagnosis. some had slight learning disabilities that just made them stand out as the "dumb" kid in the family. some were hearing or visually impaired. mentally top notch and smart, but the declaration that they were untrainable was too much for parents to deal with.

and into the belly of the hospital they went. there were various wards set up in the 30's and 40's based on gender and age. there was even a nursery. no child would be turned away during these open moratoriums. the stories of the nursery workers deeply disturbed my mother who was a janitor at the hospital from when she was 17 until she retired.

she drunkenly spilled out a story when i was a teenager about the staff who were in the nursery. these babies were loved and tended to, just like any day care. but these kids don't ever go home. 24/7 being watched and tended to. every hissy fit documented and into a master file that grew larger the older they got. They stayed in this area until age 5 when they went to the older set which was 5 to 14. Mom described hearing one woman who had to turn countless children over as they turned 5. She said it was horrifying to hear her sob and shake. "they were like my own. i held them every day and then when it was time to go to the next ward we [the women working in the nursery] would cry and beg for them to stay longer. just a bit more time, they can't make it with the older kids... they can't be left alone at night because they'll cry. they can't cry because they'll be preyed on by older patients. who'll make sure they're safe?"

pulled out of one set of hands, they were set down into the next phase. a pastoral time in the nursery replaced with the learning curve of being around older patients. the women in the nurseries watched little faces peeking over shoulders, probably waiving goodbye. oblivious as they were walked into a completely new setting. and really, anyone can turn into an animal when you're left in a zoo for too long.

my own personal experience with this facet of the hospital came from my gang of guys i worked with. mostly between the ages of 30 to 55, they were mentally ill or handicapped. but that's not to say they didn't have memories and clear, albeit blunt emotions. many asked out of habit when their mommy or daddy were coming to visit. i had to be very careful and check a file before i said anything. i once absent mindedly agreed with a patient that they would come soon only to be savaged over the head with a meal tray when i turned around. his parents never came to visit after he was admitted. when he calmed down and we had our proverbial peace pipe [juice and cheetos] i asked him why he was upset with me. he thought about it for a minute and said, "mommy daddy..." and gestured with his hand in rounded motions. like when a kid pretends they're guiding an invisible airplane in their hand. he looked down and got quiet.

he had pantomimed the last time he saw his parents when he was 8. they signed a paper, and that was it for mommy daddy.

cane corso's are just big muffins

"are you two getting out of bed... or...?"
"why? why the fuck do i have to get out of bed? it's the weekend. i have a cold. i have a dog and really, i think this is all a jealousy thing!"

i readjusted myself to spoon closer into the beast. i was babysitting a furry brat for a couple of weeks while my upstanding citizen friends went on some homo boat cruise or tour around morocco or something. all i knew is i had a loaner 105 pound dog and i wasn't really interested in doing much more than cuddle and feel gloomy in bed.
Brad hated the dog. correction: he was scared of the dog. he had only been around wee scrubs and never got over seeing Abel stumping around the apartment like a muscular pony.

Abel was a lamb. truly the reason why i love large dogs. just a chilled out beast who was only frightening when play sparring with another mutt or when i was tardy feeding him. even the latter wasn't THAT bad. he just grabbed his chow pan and clattered it up against the wall until you came to acknowledge him. and if you ignored that, he was a good chum and would come find you. last time the woof was living with Brad and i, he was pissy that i took a shower without feeding him first. i came out to brad on top of the couch terrified with Abel bonging the food dish against the wall. it was just a bratty cadence of "feed me now. feed me now!"
brad gasped when i came into the living room to see what the noise was.
"Oh god... he looks angry..."
"jesus... you're a fucking fag wimp you know that? Abel, drop it." clatter. "good babe. go lay down."
he looked at me like i was some sort of omnipotent beast master and shook his head.
"look, we've talked so many times. Abel is a marshmallow. i trust him more than that cunty little schnauzer Mac has. Seriously, how many times has that bitch bit you or come REAL close?"
"like a million ti..."
"LIKE A MILLION FUCKING TIMES." Abel peeked around the corner and gave me the sad face.
"ok, listen. all you need to do is go into it confidently. he knows he's huge and if he can boss you around, he will. and you ignore his ass as much as possible so yeah he's going to be creative to get your attention. can you just pet him for a minute? I want you to be ok with him. not like last time where you just chickened out and left for the weekend."
"no... feed him first."
throwing my hands up i went to feed the beast. glomping down huge mouthfuls i scratched his back a little and smiled. i always got such an endorphin rush around animals. too bad i'm too irresponsible to actually own one instead of temp loaners. beastie face turned back to me dripping with smashed up kibble particles and a stumpy tail wag.
"you're a good lad. finish up and we'll take you for a walk with your uncle Brad."
"I have stuff to do."
"stuff, eh? ok then." i pulled out a brown paper wrapped joint. it was real pro-like and spun up by the fat jamaican dyke who i chatted up during smoke break at work. she was in a different office, but let me tell you, pothead homosexuals lock and load when we spy another like-minded individual. we had an arrangement where i turned over some of my ativan and she bequeathed me right proper spliffs. there were a conversation starter. and packed to the tits with brain melting goodness.
"mmmmmmmmmmooooooooooookaaaaay i think i'll come."
"that's what i thought. you're walking him."
"NO!"
Abel stopped eating and cantered over to see Brad.
"look what you did! you scared the baby! seriously, dude. let's just get over the fear of this."
my ringmaster proverbial whip of a joint was just enough clout to get him to consent.

Bel Ami Shall Not Be Interrupted!!

My roommate had couch surfers over on Sunday and they went on a party tear. It's actually a really cool way to meet people and they were having fun. No biggie! I was a little loathe for them to come over because literally, it's people she hasn't met before who are sleeping on the couch. they were super cool kids tho, so i was definitely unfounded in my paranoia.

The roommate borrowed her parents car for a couple of days before she went out east on vacation. We live in a 3 unit apartment house and there's only one person with a car full time. That being said, the guy with the car doesn't ask for much in terms of the occasional time there's a car. only to give him a heads up. I did attempt to remind her to contact the neighbor. he has the personality of a hard boiled egg but we can just text him.

Sunday Afternoon:
“did you call the neighbors and tell them you’re parking in the driveway?”
“I don’t have to do that…”
“can you CALL so it’s cleared up??”
“whatever. You’re paranoid.”

Cue midnight. Roommate is long gone. I have the upstairs to myself knowing they’re all at a party and won't be back for hours.

Long shower consisting of decadent hops and bergamont body wash and a tiny dot of my roommates super expensive l'occitane shampoo and conditioner. Let me tell you, there IS a difference between $5 and $25/bottle. I shave, worked on my poorly tended to feet and wrap up in the shower.

dosed in clean and delicious scents led me to prance around the house like a freshly scrubbed puppy. i loped around making some tea and smoking a joint without being hampered by pants. as i dried off i began to feel like i should really take advantage of the empty house even more.

So, yeah, this is over-share, but it's worth it for the benefit of a story.

I go to my porno movie collection on my computer and hum over what I want to select. I opted for a newer and younger themed movie. my usual is early 90's pre-condom bear daddy stuff or something decidedly muscular.

But I've watched the burly dude stuff to death and need a change. I go with a super hot BelAmi movie with TWINKIES, which isn’t my usual selection but hey, might as well mix it up.

So I’m literally at the 50% mark in terms of lift off, no clothing, just rave music on the stereo and twinkies and OH! They brought a friend. Hot… yeah that’s hot… so hot… you like it when that Russian comes over to borrow a cup of sugar don’t you? Wuff… oh YEAH! You don’t even wear underwear under your jeans, do you? That's so convenient! Yeah… little sloots…

[wrrrrrrr]
Shut up phone.
[wrrrrrrrrrrrrrr]
F*ck it.
[wrrrrr wrrrrr wrrrrrrr]
JESUS!

[using elbow to turn on phone]
*UNIT C* Oh what do they want… let me guess.
*UNIT C* 12:04AM: “Hi, can you let me know what you’re doing with the car? I can’t pull in.”
GAH!!!

I slap some hand sanitizer on and text the absentee roommate. “YO, need to move the car or text the neighbor to let him know what you’re doing.”
[no response]
*UNIT C* 12:29AM: “hi, I’ve been out here for 20 minutes… what are we doing with the car?”
Texting Roommate: “SAM I can’t move the f’ing car, what do you want me to do?” [i literally can't. i don't have a drivers license.]
Roommate Response: “KEYS ARE DOWNSTAIRS!”
Texting Roommate: “so the neighbor can move your car?”
ANGRY ROOMMATE RESPONSE: “YES!!! GOD!!”

So I’m preeeeeeeetty ticked off at this point.

Like I can’t hear most sounds or process colour because I’m that furious.

I just barely dress in a tshirt and my rattiest shorts and storm downstairs to grab the keys. My hair is soaking wet, my tshirt is on inside out and I managed to grab the only pair of shorts on the floor that legally require me to wear them with underwear. never mind that there were 4 other ones i should have grabbed.

Flinging the door open, I see the neighbor on the porch and snap my fingers to point at him like some d*key Clint Eastwood.
“HEY! Can you move the car in further? I don’t care if you wreck it.”
“oh.. uh… sure I can move it no problem…. What time does she need out of the driveway…”
“F**K HER. IF SHE CAN’T GET HER PLANS SORTED TO DO THIS I DON’T CARE!”
“oh… uh… it’s not a big deal I just didn’t want to get a ticket parking on the roa….”
“WHATEVER, just move it and throw the keys in the bushes after!!!” [I’m pretty sure I was foaming at the mouth by this point]
“okay…?”

Buddy moves the car and brings the keys back. “Hey sorry to have woken you up I apprecia…”

At this time I’m muttering to myself smoking and really sounding like I’m some schizophrenic homeless guy and he just slinks off looking over his shoulder.

It took me another 40 minutes to loop back to the point where I was pre-interruption and let me tell you, it was an angry, angry w*nk. And I don’t think those twinky boys deserved to be called all those names.

the in the out the in the out THE IN THE OUUUUUTTTTTAAAAAAH

so... i'm never one to be positive but things are moving along quite nicely. i feel confident in getting a good place to live if i move to Toronto. i'm still up in the air about a job, but even then i feel, ugh, hopeful.

i like the idea of putting little morsels of change out to the universe and seeing all the opportunities that unfold. GOD I WANT TO DIE WRITING THAT OUT. \

but it's true.

and i think i'm going to make it.

in the meantime, time to look at more j-o-b-s.

AVAILABLE: TORONTO ROOMMATE

for those in toronto or know of people in toronto, i'm starting to get down to bidness about looking for places to live. and i'm pretty sure on my own isn't an option right now to keep the cost of living down, so i want to share a place. on the off chance someone sees this:

AVAILABLE: TORONTO ROOMATE FOR SEPTEMBER-ISH
quiet until spoken to nerdy pothead looking for a roommate in September. very laid back, always willing to fix shit instead of being a passive aggressive cunt.

well-trained with dishes, common area clean ups. hard of hearing so can't creep you fucking in the next room & listen to music with headphones 99.73% of the time.

i'm an only child so i thrive in having a room where i can turn it into my fiefdom of awesome. definitely not straight edge, but not the type who stays up until 7am blasting coke and fingering prostitutes on your couch. more like i come home after 2 bottles of wine and the worst thing that happens is i get you cornered in the kitchen and insist on talking about decoupage DIY art projects. [hint: you tell me there's cheese in the fridge and i will immediately ignore you and you can scamper off]

Because i've never lived in the city i have some ill-conceived notion about places i'd like to live so i better not rattle off all my "ideal" locations. suggestions taken freely tho, even if you don't want to live with me.

What says y'all? Pretty much, i want a room and someone to split the rent with who won't terrorize me or be standoffish. a chill person who appreciates chill living spaces. i won't make you feel like i need a babysitter nor will i hijack your plans. god damn, i hate it when people do that.

Bonus Speed Round: comic book fan, will go to damn near any concert with you, will fawn over your art projects willingly, movie buff, owns a sewing machine, closeted amateur makeup and aesthetician, the biggest faggy queer girl you'll ever meet and will make you vegan/veggie dinners if you don't mind me making a steak once a week when you're gone. hell, i can even cook/adhere to kosher standards if that sweetens the deal.

what's poppin' toronto?

ok let's do this

still trying to figure out what i want to do job-wise but i'm feeling like the moment of zen is approaching. like, i feel good even tho things aren't resolved in the slightest. instead of feeling like a hundred plates are mid air and ready to crash, it's more manageable.

i'm notorious for making waves of demands on myself and then overwhelming my senses. brilliant. and horrifyingly counter productive. instead i'm trying to break off some nibbles.

and yes, this is like an extended tweet of baloney bullshit, but hey, you can stop reading at any time. NO! COME BACK! I promise i'll post something good after.

in the meantime:
* jenny lynn necklace - i want to make a new one but need to find a space where fatty dingdong kitty can't get into my crap. i've had 3 aborted attempts. i think fat-body is outside and then she runs in. it's like she knows i don't want her around. god i hate cats so much.

* resume update - OH GOD HELP ME! i do not/am not capable of creating a generic resume. i've been in a bubble for so long and it's entirely worded for applying within the company i'm at now. aka FUCKING USELESS for applying to other places. i know i can look stuff up online but i need someone to slap me around and pull my hair a little to get me in the mood to fix it.

* get my profile posted to monster.ca & other job boards to make sure i'm at least primed and ready to go if there's something i need to apply to ASAP.

all do-able.

crispy

it's already starting to get retardedly hot in the house... i can tell already i'm going to have a hissy fit or breakdown and pay a friend to help me set up the huge a/c i have in my window.

i do keep in mind if i over talk something it falls flat... but i have been making myself cook a lot more. which is amazing for me because i've been such a swinging bachelor with meals. i've looked in the fridge and only seen 2 types of mustard, aged cheddar [2 year minimum PLEASE] and a brita water jug. at least i always seem to have crackers to pair with the cheese and mustard.

the new roommate is trying to eat well after a very organic and earthy diet during a 2 month trip to Hobbit Land. aka New Zealand. not that we're being insanely good... i drank a can of pop today and she had what can only be described as a catastrophic amount of corn nuts. it really helps that she works in a fancy-tits restaurant and i attempt to woo her from being reluctant to try my cooking. i'm rather bad with getting a few things down pat and then not straying too far so i'm taking the all of 3 seconds needed to look up shit that i think is tasty and do a check to see what's in the fridge.

currently i have a total bug up my ass to make apple crisp but feel like it's going to get swamp ass hot in the kitchen if i turn the oven on. cool air is pouring into the windows that we were clever enough to get open so a few more bowls, a couple more pints of water and maybe it'll be go time... although i'm thinking i might chicken out and just open a can of rice pudding and add some cinnamon & mango slices. mmm... bland. my kind of dessert.

veggies? i guess.

i've been having a decidedly stripped down version of meals since i've been sick. the idea of eating food hasn't exactly been appealing... but probably because my body assumes i'm going to stick garbage into it. beyond just trying to eat well to feed my internal furnace something useful, it's just been cheaper. it also helps that my current roommate will make a meal if i selectively leave shit out that can be strung together for a meal. i don't mind doing the dishes when i get food out of it. so it's been little things like veggie curry, lentils, couscous and other stupid hippy shit that normally bores me. but since i've felt blah over all it doesn't disturb me to have it.
coming back from a cupboard stock-up trip from The Good Grocery Store i realized i didn't pick up a single item of meat. it was a long. long way from vegan but definitely vegetarian. i'm a strict omnivore. i believe that if you eat one type of meat you eat it all. no picking & choosing based on how cute the items was prior too being killed. meat is meat is meat, right?
i really feel that if people eat meat they should know how it dies. growing up around farming activities i know one thing for certain, they don't tickle them to death.
i have been puttering around with some vegan meals but more for simplicity of creation instead of something healthy. cheese is something i think about, nay, dream about on a regular basis. i'm very serious. a life without cheese if beyond my understanding. i understand the many reasons why someone could easily decline consuming it, but nothing i want to experience first hand.
all i know is that i'm sick with a cold on top of getting over a nasty case of shingles. it's almost like my immune system has tanked...oh right.

change? maybe? feh.

change change change me! feeling frustrated and restless, even after a lovely move into a new place. i've recently disgusted myself by saying aloud, "i think i want to move to toronto."

thus far i've spent many, many, MANY discussions [no seriously] & having drop 'em out drag 'em down arguments with peers about how i'm really ok living in Waterloo. I hate the sad little, "aw" head tilts when i tell people in toronto that's where i live... and the dumbfuck comments of "what on earth do you do there? there's nothing right?" no, you're right. we just got electricity last month and for fun we go out to the dump & shoot rats. yep, we have lots of fun.

back to reality, i like Waterloo. i don't feel that i've missed out on ANYTHING just because i didn't move to Toronto when i could.

back in highschool, it was an endless stream of daydreaming to escape to Toronto. being in a small city where you feel terrified about being a homo and stress from being estranged from ones family fosters a dream. it's the "of mice and men" cyclical story of "tell me 'bout the raaaaabbitts george..." instead it's, "tell me about Tor-an-tah, George. will there be gay people and so much to do? when're we going George? when can I live there?"

i got in to U of T but opted for Laurier. like it or lump it, i managed to finish there and kept on living in the area, save for an ill-fated stint in Ottawa. note: i like visiting Ottawa but i fucking hate living there.

after that shit settled I found some good jobs and puttered around and really called this my hometown. the thought of leaving to go back to where my parents were stressed me out to the point of having massive hissy fits [privately] and being launched into some pretty brooding and dark thoughts. I wanted to be in Waterloo because that's my home and I thought leaving it was fairly stupid. er, stupid in the sense that i didn't like leaving.

the whole time i have faced opposition from some Toronto pals about the fact that I never moved to Toronto. Like, i was somehow living in a wasteland of nothing since in their mind there's a border around Toronto and the surrounding area is deserted or have zombies wandering around.

actually i got pretty hot-headed when people pushed me about living here and went the opposite direction of really loathing the idea of going to Toronto. higher cost of living, higher rent, more expensive to get around, more crowded and more shitty neighborhoods to look out for. why would i cough up the luxury of going out to dinner whenever i wanted? why would i decline getting my nails done because it's all getting slammed into rent money?

toronto was lovely to visit for concerts and seeing friends and my unrequited love obsession! but wouldn't want to stay too long.

present day:
at this point, i'm frustrated with work... i make decent pay but i'm sitting at my desk 2 days out of the week wanting to sob because i'm bored and don't enjoy it anymore. i like where i live but it still feels chaotic and unsettled... and nothing that i would be heartbroken if i had to leave. and... get your barf bags out... i am so lonely and sad about being single that I can't stand to listen to myself talk anymore. what I want: fat, working full time, nerdy & funny gal. if they exist they are either married, uninterested in me or living in Toronto. I'm a VERY self contained unit and don't feel like dating defines me. But it's just piling up and i can't push aside how i feel anymore.

if i have yet another friend [we're talking multiples of people who ask me so don't preen yourself into thinking it's only you. please.] ask if i'm seeing anyone, then go into the grocery list of "potentials" that FAILED, DIDN'T WORK OUT OR THEY WEREN'T INTERESTED [how many fucking ways can you reiterate that and say 'you know what? i'll tell you when anyone is even remotely interested in me] and then get the awkward, "well i don't know what your problem is" discussion i'll burst.

everyone knows a gay boy but retort, "you're the only lesbian i know!" and smile at me... and i just go, so what? i'm the only gay in the village who isn't a 20 year old university student addicted to asshole drama and minute by minute relationship status updates or 40+ married and whom I have nothing in common with? cool.

i don't think moving to Toronto will fix me, and i'm sure it'll just add more complications to my life, but i want it. i want a change. i want to be located there to make some sort of fucking connection with a fucking woman instead of thinking about making a craigslist ad to ask fat gay men if i can suck on their toes. [long story]

but i want a job there. i don't think i can go back to meager retail income but is that the point? i want change and this is how it has to go? i need to regress into something just a cunt hair above minimum wage in order to have a larger dating pool? I'm pushing 30 and now i want to do all the shit i should have done when i was 20. classic julie bullshit.

i'm going to see if work even gives a bonus this year to see if i can tone down my credit card and free up some space. and do what? no idea. maybe i should just get on antidepressants, become so complacent that it doesn't matter that i'm single forever and suck it up... but as Kurt said, "so it goes" and I don't really know what direction to move in.

baby went to am-sterrrr-dam.....

"it's hardly a wake and bake at 2 in the fucking afternoon!"
her eyes stared mutely with blond lashes fluttering in front of me.
"oh well, like once i did it. people were all, "let's wake and bake!" but i was kinda like, ehhhh that's iffy."
"wait... what... what does that have to do with me getting stoned?"
"uh... nothing i guess?"
"no seriously, show me on the clock when it's socially acceptable to get high."
she was painted into a logic corner and her eyes wash over with wet tears that were in the mail.
i'm sensitive... i can't take a joke nor can i cope with someone bullying me in an argument. but i do feel it's my civic duty to call out the overly sensitive to try and instill a sense of backbone. stand up a little! life is tough!! rahrahrah etc...
my mind immediately changed tack.
oh.
right.
when you're attractive, you don't really need much of a coping strategy. in fact, her shimmering blond lashes were often dabbed in precursor tears. like, a lot a lot as she'd succinctly describe something.
so tears form, people are horrified that they've made this morsel of a girl get upset. it's brilliant. all bend and none are realizing what precedence has been set! whereas i've been introduced to Tough Fucking Shit, Ugly Fag enough to have moved past that persona.
i was nodding and staring, lost and enamoured in my diagnosis. she clearly was struggling to maintain the puppy eyes between natural evaporation and the sinking confusion she must have felt.
"uh?"
"oh.... yes wake and bake. you know what? never mind. i'm just going to drink this coffee and ya know, mosey on to the living room.
she trailed after me and framed up her thin outline in the doorway.
"well, leah is making lunch still so i guess i could have some with you?"
"knock yourself out... i'll hit it first."

thanks!

im thankful for: weed, wine, my precarious health, kittens, my unrequited crushes & as always my ability to cheapen life-affirmation statements

"i got a hand, that means i got a fist"

the waitress laid the palm of her hand over my forehead. she looked tersely off to the side focusing on the exact heat of my head.
"You're a little warm... I guess that's good enough."
i had turned down my usual order of a 1/2 litre of wine and immediately she flew into a panic that i was terminally ill.
and if i died, no one would patiently sit through her many smoke breaks while waiting to get served... Nor would a customer be readily available with her favourite brand of cigarettes.

she trucked off to get my order which was non-alcoholic. she shot me a look before she filled up the glass, pinched hope in her face expecting me to back out of it at the last minute. i stared back and she shook her head.

The table was animated and kibbitzed between checking cells and smart phones... between bites of food and licking glass lips before the booze ran down. shifting tired asses on worn out chairs to lean to the side and roll back the strain of staring at a computer screen all day. I pulled a mouthful of ice tea down and sighed. the only one without a phone out i was an alien being of my usual self: Sober and unconnected. Normally it's the reverse, see?

Normally i'm a twitter thinking and hoping and ignoring reality but i felt knocked down... conversations wafted by me as i looked frozen in one look/thought. the special time of the day when i shoo away the dedicated fantasy of what i want and instead stack up the piles of what i got. this should be a time infused with booze but i was saving up for a new expensive distraction and wanted to try and be sensible. i could get drunk when i got home anyway.

this actually happened...er, most of it

i walked up McCaullum at a fast pace. i had a hard look on my face to dissuade homeless people from trying to beg for a cigarette. i flipped down my suspenders and let them bounce off my tight jeans. my fred perry shirt was truly a bargain considering what they were originally trying to sell it for. I could see smoke rising up from the stoop. Pasha was probably already out there chain smoking. He was cooling his ass off on the cement steps with Bucky who panted softly but got worked into a froth when i made eye contact.
"Go get him..."
Buck took off and hopped around like a spazzy rabbit until i would stoop down to crush him in a hug.
"Don't pick him up Nay, he hurt his leg at the dog park today."
"Aw Bucky done gon' hurt hisself? Poor baby!"
"You're retarded with him."
"HE'S A BABY!" My raised voice sent him over the edge whimpering and dancing around trying to decide if he should roll over or try to jump up. The knapsack strap slid off my shoulder and I hunkered down to sit with Pasha. Bucky wiggled between us and looked at me with those big brown eyes that looked so happy even if it was a hot summer evening. Grabbing his snout I smooched the side of his face and lifted up his floppy ear to whisper, "You are a retard... But I love you... Yes you Buuuuucky.... Yes!"
"Oh gross. Just fucking make out with him already."
"calm down... your brain's gone rotten in the heat." I opened up my bag and pulled out a bottle of cheap white wine and a litre bottle of water to try and counteract the booze.
"Screw top I hope?"
"Fuck, it's not like we can't go back into your apartment and get a cork screw."
His fingers flickered for me to pass the bottle over. he snapped the seal open and took a long pull of the wine. he was stripped down to the waist with a towel rolled up beside him. I was over for a drink and to shave his head down to a manageable length. Before I started i settled into the deep cement stairs and leaned back. It was a busy little intersection when it was past 7pm. The static clopping of hooker shoes going back and fourth... Hurried steps of people trying to avoid their stare... and assorted queers, punks and art school drop outs hanging out windows or lounging on front steps to get out of the oppressive heat inside the apartments.
Swigging back some wine i cracked a few knuckles and looked over at Pasha.
"You look tired mate... Want me to do your hair now? Might cool you off a bit. Screw the top back on the booze, i don't want to be sucking back stubble all night."
He fanned out the towel over his shoulders and passed over the clippers. Real nice battery operated set that he had gotten in a pseudo divorce settlement with a hairdresser he had been living with. Snapping my fingers I got him to sit a few steps down in front of me. we both shared a cigarette as I went to work on slowly dragging the clippers over the top of his head. A cutsie straight neighbour walked past and looked a little freaked out at what must have looked like queer skinheads getting ready for a night out... Well, I was dressed like a skinhead but no one was touching my heavy layers of shaggy hair with clippers.
Frisking my hand over the puppy fuzz bristle on his head i told him I was done and reached down for the wine.
"Looks good man."
"Thanks... What do I owe you?"
"Nothing... Cable's out at home and sitting on McCallum is better than any fucking telly show."
A hooker brayed at a counterpart who was traipsing across the road to the fly by night convenience store. "Gemme a plastic bottle if you're gettin' me a drink so we can huff outta it after."
Pasha and I kept looking forward and said in unison, "NICE!" Bucky let out a muffled growl/woof as she walked past... Nothing scary, just a lot of air puffing out his lips as he wiggled closer to me. "Rowrrrff-ff-fff..."
"Good dawg, you tell that old hooker."
Pasha threw a thick hand on his neck and scratched under his collar. Buck was clearly in heaven sandwiched between two men even if he was hot under a thick fur coat.
A hoor spotted us across the road. "Whattre you faggots looking at?!"
We smirked and Pasha rubbed a hand down his nipple and nodded at her. She looked away disgusted and we had a nice laugh. It only gets better as the night goes on.... Pasha leaned over to give me a messy tongue kiss all over my ear to get me going.
"You're a pig."
"It's just the wine. Which is surprisingly good for a screw top."
"How did we go from semi-homeless queer kids to fags with full time jobs?"
"Don't feel bad, we're just as screwed up and horny as we were back then."
"Can't argue with that logic."

fiction - wedding reception

"well, we're late. i hope you're happy. now we're only going to get another 15 minutes before they close the open bar."
"HEY! You know what?! You're fucking LUCKY that I filled in for this shit-show as a favour so let's not loose sight of the facts."
Deflated I made a direct path to the bar and tried to hustle up some caesars and shots of whiskey. Josie loomed behind me looking ticked off, hardly looking at me as she reached over my shoulder to get the shot glass.
"Whata shit-show... We're here for dinner and then we're OUT."
I was too wound up to try to soothe her and burried my face into the chill of the caesar. slow down, you're old and you'll get heartburn.
i almost lost it. almost. i heaved forward and caught it before it got out. i'm not loosing it before getting more free drinks into me.
"Give me two more whiskeys before the bar closes please."
The bartender slapped them out and I chucked them back before Josie could grab them. I took in a deep breath and straightened up. The general din of a full restaurant was dulled down by panes of glass. I could see everyone in there in fuzzy lines... I could hear the bride trying to yell at her grandmother who was too deaf to make things out over the din of the room.
I pulled open the door and avoided eye contact with anyone. no more than 100 people, but the dining area was packed. every seat looked taken. what the fuck?
"Hey, can I help you find your seat?"
"Uh, yeah. it doesn't look like there's anything left."
"Oh..." The waiter looked embarassed. "You must be around the other side."
"Other... side?" We trotted after him as he strode away from the bride and groom and around a corner obscured with a flowing plant. We took a turn for the obscure so it seemed as there was 3 more tables of people tucked around the bend. I looked over my shoulder and saw that we could spy the main table if you stood up and leaned right to avoid the plant.
"What the hell is this?! Are we at the fucking kids table?"
The island of misfit wedding guests. Oh my god, we're in the remedial section.
The waiter turned heel before we could protest and 4 people turned to look at us. Josie was nipping sharply on her nails in a clicky-clack pattern abd I could tell she was just raging.
Courage. Oh god...
My first instinct was to turn around and leave to get chinese food, eat alone in my boxer shorts and maybe have a little cry with some wine n' perkaset. one step forward. There was two seats left. in what was essentially the furthest corner of the restaurant. The end seat was undoubtedly reserved for me.
Josie strode over to the table and picked up the place cards.
"Oh yeah... we're right here. Fucking lovely."
Our dinner partners seemed to be aware of the lowly stature of our table too. A cutesy butch woman sighed. "Welcome to the leper colony. Did you fuck the bride or groom?"
"Bride."
"Oh... yeah?"
"It was university, I went through a straight-curious phase." I went to sit down. Thank god I took that valium before I left the house today or I would have just lost it by now.
The woman smiled again. I was too well trained by my mother to put on the game face instead of letting it leak that I was upset.
"Hey... I'm Nate, this is Josie."
"I'm Meg and this is Frank."
Frank turned away from an animated conversation with his neighbour to adress us.
"Hi! Hannah said something that you're roomates with Anthony Luk?"
"Yeah he was supposed to come with me but had to cancel at the last min.."
"Oh MY god. I dated his sister for EVER. What's Anthony doing now? What's Sarah doing? Have you met Sarah? She was such a cool chick."
Fantastic. Blabbermouth. Thanks for bailing on this Anthony.
"Sarah's good... she's in school out west and... "
"What?! I never thought she'd go back! Good for her... So... You're Nate?"
"I feel as though there's some looming preconception of who I am..."
"Hannah told me about you after you two, you know, broke things off."
Josie scoffed and thumbed out a text message on her phone.
"That's a really nice way of putting it."
"Oh you're telling me? Hannah has a way of leaving a lot of people in her wake."
Meg raised a glass of water. "To the bride traumatizing men!"
I was feeling the flush of the drinks I chucked back. "To Hannah!"
Even Josie cracked a wee grin and we settled back into distracted silence.
Dinner started to roll out. Oh hot damn! they skipped any speeches speeches and went directly to feeding our faces.
"Red or white?"
I had a mouthful of bread when a skinny little waitress came up to the table. In one hand a huge bottle of red and the other white. Both Australian and terribly expensive.
"It's free wine during dinner!"
"We'll take both thanks."
"Come on you have to let me pour them at least."
Meg flickered a clean $50 in between her fingers. "I have $50 here that says leave the bottle here all night and keep them coming. We all promise not to ask for any stupid shit. Right?"
A collective agreement and she put the bottles down on the table.
"Deal... enjoy!"
We turned to the actual meal. What a delight to drop soft pieces of steak into my mouth and pool mouthfuls of sharp red wine in with it.
Meg turned to me and set down her fork. She leaned on one elbow still gripping her steak knife.
"This wedding is a trip... All the family members are so churchy and oblivious. I've never been called sir so many times in my life."
Her wedding date was chomping on some salad and said, "It's because you didn't wax your moustache."
"Hey, back off history boy. It makes me look dignified." She stroked the invisible moustache and flicked a finger at me. "You know what I'm talking about."
I was feeling a bit better and better. Everyone was so helpful and kept filling up my glass for me as soon as it verged on empty.
Josie was deep in conversation with two girls at the end of the table and was letting her dinner go cold trying to chat them up and enthrall them with her tales of money making on stocks. I stabbed a fork into a few of his baby potatos and stuff them into my mouth. they would be engulfed in the deep pool of wine in my gut soon enough.
Eventually Josie stood up to scooch her chair over to hold court with them and I was left to focus on Meg and Frank who bickered terribly but clearly were dear dear friends. that sort of one-liner action that you can only develop through years of knowing each other.
"So where did you two meet?"
"We go to U of T together... I lost a bet so I had to be Frank's wedding date."
Frank grinned with a mouthful of food. "She said I couldn't eat an entire pull off two composition pieces in two nights. Suckah!"
"Music eh?"
"Yeah yeah... I'm in vocal and Frank's in composition. I swear he's sleeping with the fucking professor to have passed..."
"Please! I'm not some unstoppable fucking machine!"
"DID YOU SLEEP WITH THAT PROFESSOR?"
"Well not until the summer term..."
"Jesus! God how I hate you..."
"Vocal? That's a pretty small program at the school..."
"I know... even more horrifying that they took ME as a student."
"I totally think they let you in thinking you were a gay guy."
"Mmhmm... I think they should really bring back the whole castriati thing."
Josie returned to the spot beside me. "Who's getting their balls cut off now?"
"Meg is."
We had a laugh and I noticed that the girls at the end of the table were snickering along with us.
More wine was set down on the table. Skinny girl was shaking her head. "Hardly any of the tables are drinking... Someone actually sent back their steak to be cooked longer than well done. It's whitetrash in the big city out there."
Shit... I had totally forgotten about the world around the corner. At least for a little bit.
"Seriously though, are you studying a specific area of vocal?"
She swished wine around in her glass. "I'm attempting to be the manliest woman to try and do male opera roles."
"That, my dear, is a fantastic idea. Now if you forgive me, I must make a bathroom run."
Josie was enrapt talking to Frank about how to diversify his investments as I left. I went to forage for the bathroom and tried to maintain composure and not stagger... not too much at least.
I saw Hannah and her husband making the rounds at all of the tables. They were a long way away from ours so I had nothing to fear about missing out on too much. I spied the door to the washroom and felt a small bump up behind me.
"It's just me..." Frank was directly behind me and he hustled me through the doorway. I made brief eye contact with Hannah and laughed out loud when Frank grabbed my hips and hurried me along down the hall. This felt a bit more urgent than boy talk in the bathroom. We chugged into the bathroom and directly into a stall. He casually prodded me to lean against a wall and pulled on my tie a little.
"Hannah said that you'd been gay until you were with her?"
"Correction, always was gay. She just confirmed all doubts and suspicions."
"So... You only date men mostly?"
Oh I know where this is going. A snog won't hurt anyone will it? I pulled him in for a quick kiss, only vaugly aware of heels clicking down the hall to the bathroom.
"Nate? Franics? Are you in here?"
Busted. There was only one stall door closed.
"Uh... yes?" Like a well-timed delivery we said it at the same time. Damn it.
"Are... you... Um, I just wanted to say thank you for the lovely gifts."
Frank was rummaging around below the belt, making it hard to maintain a normal train of thought.
"Oh... GOOD... good I'm glad you liked it." I couldn't even remember what it was. I bought it the day that the invitation arrived in the mail. God I hope it wasn't something backhanded and bitter.
"Ok, well... I'll let you get back... to... it... I guess? Come to the table and meet Jack will you?"
"SURE..." I swatted away a very persistant hand. "I mean, sure thing Hannah."
She turned heel to leave and I charged at Frank to thump him up against the opposite wall.
Oh god knows how long we were in there. People clearly came in and out, but I don't think we were too obvious. Well, other than the two sets of mens dress shoes clearly in the stall. No matter! I was becoming less and less fixated on my first and last female relationship and more on how I was going to keep my pants up for the remainder of the wedding.
"Muhhf... Muh... Ok ok... We should get back before we come out with godamn boners."
"oh my GOD!"
Damn it! Someone had come into the stall beside us. Forgot that part. Frank laughed and pulled me out of the stall to run out before our guest could identify us. Being classy, we had staggered exits out of the door but we still looked guilty as fuck.
We made it back to the table where Meg was chatting away with Josie.
"Odjajhi reserve huh?"
"Woah! No one fucking knows that place."
"Oh sweetie I know it well. I used to work on the youth choir council with..."
"Mr. Robertson?!"
"Ha! The very same."
"Jesus... that's a long time ago. I used to date a boy in highschool who trained with Mr. Robertson's quote/end quote wife."
"Huang! No!"
"Yes, Mrs Huang... Queen of the 4 hour long rehersal.... and the emotional duress of extended teaching lessons. I know it well. I spent many a morning sleeping on the steps of her basement while Dallas had clarinet lessons."
"Quite the lady, I know. How do you think I felt? I would have dinner with Mr. Robertson and her when I was in town for workshops or for performances with Mr. Roberston's chamber choir group."
"Huang! Shit, I haven't heard that in a long time. From a statistical point of view, Dallas would cry every third lesson. This is the fucking guy who survived seeing a parent be murdered, lived through foster homes and pretty much could stand up to anyone... crying, like a lost calf when she told him his staccato was uninspired."
"tut tut, poor soul..."
"you're telling me. How is a 17 year old supposed to get any action when your boyfriend is sobbing over messing up a music piece that he was a teensy bit slow on the third page? Tell me that!" Frank's foot was reaching over to my leg, lightly, but still a bit thrilling.
"Indeed, it would be hard to manage."
Frank stared at me directly but threw a proposition out there. "Meg! you should sing something! Come on, I feel bad that we only got them a $45 gift certificate for the bookstore."
"So you don't feel bad about whoring me out to a restaurant full of people after I get shitfaced and I would sound like hell?"
He nodded in agreement. "What aren't you getting here?"
"What on EARTH would I do for this crowd? Have you noticed that we're on our fifth bottle of cabernet because everyone out in the general population is holding out to see if they'll open up a bottle of zinfindel?!"
It popped out of my mouth before I could stop myself. "Vecchia Zimarra from La Boheme."
Silence. Frank gaped at me. "That's perfect. Begging for money to look after someone who's dying? I LIKE IT! No one will fucking know what you're saying if it's in Italian. Do it Meg!"
"Wouldn't you think that it's a bit gauche to sing about death and misery on someone's wedding day?"
"Yes it would be gauche if anyone in here was at a level above amoebic white trash. Let's do this!"
Hannah was finally making her way over to the banished tables. "Hi everyone! Thanks for coming today. My god you must all be having fun. We can hear you all laughing and carrying on in the back."
I gulped back a mouthful of wine. "We'll be quiet in a minute, I promise. Meg wanted to know if you'd be ok with her singing an opera piece... Our gift to your new love." We all raised a glass and smirked at the pouting groom. Yes buddy, I was the fag that fucked your fiance when you were on a "break".
"I would love for you to sing something... Come out to the front... All of you!"
Meg looked behind her shoulder with a terrified look. I winked and followed her out.
Frank bellowed to get everyone's attention. "Everyone! Please! My friend here wants to present a wedding song!"
It was lovely... It was miserable! The wrong thing to bring out for a wedding filled with hope for the future. A sad and mournful piece about begging for money and selling ones jacket. Perfection. Everyone was enrapt with confusion. Not really an opera crowd I guess.... What a backhanded wedding gift....
----------

fiction and a little bit of reality

"what? what will you do?"
"you don't want to know... just don't do it."
Ari was being a prat and the people milling around us at the bar were listening in. His newest facination was to take a pubic hair and put it on a white card. from there he would crank it through a card laminating machine that he had found at a rummage sale. There were over 10000 plastic sleeves and there certainly weren't that many business cards in his wallet that needed laminating. Over-stocked with these items he had recently decided to take it upon himself to find ways to get rid of them.
Creativity had evolved into spectacular gross behaviour and he was amassing a collection of pube cards. To my horror he was handing them out to unexpecting friends and had threatened to give me one.
"I would put that right up there with assault."
"What?! It's in plastic! It's sealed shut!"
"IT'S YOUR FUCKING PUBES YOU DIRTY PRE-VERT MONKEY!"
The waitress approached us and then walked away.
We frantically waved her back and assured her that we would behave while she was there. After the orders were placed we stood in silence. Me fuming and Ari staring at some university kids.
His brother Yosef was making his way through a packed bar crowd with Chana in tow.
Chana gave the death stare to someone who accidentally bumped into her and was still trying to stare the girl down. Yosef was keen to get a few drinks in and move on to smoking some weed but we had to make an effort to look like we gave a shit about someone's birthday.
"Why the hell are we here? It's all a bunch of fuckin' university students."
"Did you see her run into me? Where's the decency in people? She didn't even say sorry!" I was still pouting over the pube card discussion and she picked up on it. "What's the issue? You have a fight with your little boyfriend?"
"Go on, Ari. Tell her."
He pulled out a sample card and held it up to her. She leaned in close straining to make out what it is. Her glassed slid down her nose and she eyeballed the card more. Wait for it. Wait. Wait for it... Her eyes widened and the tell-tale rage shakes fluttered up her body.
Yosef had turned his attention back to us and caught sight of the pube card and rushed to Chana to hold her back. I thrust out my arm to hold her back as her hands arched into pointy nails and writhing fingers attempting to claw Ari's face off as he laughed at her.
"Yossi! Hold your little friend back!" Ari reached into his pocket and faned out 6 cards to waggle in front of Chana's snapping mouth spewing out yiddish disses. I'm sure it would have made your skin crawl if you knew what the hell she was saying.
"I'll rip your smug homo face off! You pig!"
Yosef and I held her back and I wrapped a thick arm around her from behind. She pushed against me like a dog waiting to be set free. I sipped my beer with my free arm and gestured towards Ari. Using my best soothing tone I talked into her ear.
"Our friend here doesn't think that there's anything wrong with his. He doesn't think that there's a reason to flip out."
"Yossi, come on, you thought it was funny..."
"I thought it was funny when it was yours... It's not funny to have amassed a library of my friends god damn pubic hair."
"Look! I got Paul to give me one of his!" He held up one of the newest cards and Yosef looked horrified. Paul was one of his most vibrantly homophobic friends and couldn't imagine him letting Ari fish around in his shorts to pluck out a hair. Even I was agog.
"OK now, your pube game is fucking sick but I'm impressed with this one."
"Thank you Nate. I knew you'd come around on it. See? It's thrilling and fun!"
"Oh my god... did you get permission to get this or did you wait until he was sleeping?!"
Ari quickly put the card into his shirt pocket and took a sip of beer.
"Fuck... you fucking idiot. So help me god, if you took this off of him when he was sleeping I will not protect you when he comes to sever your balls from your body."
"I plead the fifth on this one."
Chana was still wrapped up under my arm but was gradually relaxing. Probably out of joy thinking about telling Paul the whereabouts of a rogue pubic hair.
"You two are clearly overreacting. Seriously, what the hell would you do if I gave you one of these cards when you weren't expecting it? Nothing! It's wrapped in plastic. It's harmless."
As three voices we yelled louder than needed. "IT'S YOUR PUBES!" followed with assorted spatterings of curses and heads shaking in disbelief.
Chana took my beer and swilled back a hearty dose. "You know what I'd do?"
I gave her a motivational hug. I love it when she's in a rage, it's always fraught with creative insults.
"I would wait until you least expect it... Maybe the next day, maybe the next month... But you wouldn't see it coming. I'll wait until you can't see me. I'll wait until you're in a room with a boy you're trying to impress. I'd jam my hand down my pants and fish around in my cunt for a minute. Like, we're talking four fingers, triple-knuckle deep jammed in there. I'd get them in there as far as I could go, yank it out and paint your face with my pussy juice."
Yosef and I hollered with laughter.
"Yessir, I'd paint you up real nice and I'd put two fingers up your nose so just washing your face won't fix it. you'll have to smell it for days on end. And just when you think it's gone you'll realize it's not actually "there", it's in your psyche. It'll never leave your mind. Every day you'll wake up and think, "Someone played finger paints on my face with vaginal fluid and I will never be the same.""
"That's a little harsh! See, just touch the card!!! It's nothing!"
I was mid sip and almost spat out a gradually warming Stella onto Chana's shoulder.
"Holy jesus we're going to get thrown out! You! Cards away. You! Calm down and rein it in!"
"Hey... Hey... Chana... Calm down. I'm sorry. I didn't mean to upset you. Here, take my card and call me any time."
Oh god that's it... She's going to stab him as he laughs. No matter. Some beer and a resolute promise to get stoned later would help I'm sure.