Steady As She Goes

2012-02-10T18:27:00.001-08:00

"mentally cheesecaked out" becomes today's favourite auto-correct.

my words

2012-02-08T17:36:00.001-08:00

my brain, i don't know

2012-02-05T12:08:00.000-08:00

Sometimes when I'm biking up behind a group of stationary people, I can't stop myself from imagining I'm a shark.

SNEAK ATTACK.

2012-02-03T13:42:00.001-08:00

It's becoming very apparent that toast is just a vehicle for my full-fledged jam addiction.

I ran out of bread and am now eating it by the spoonful. Life's good.

yipyipyip

2012-01-31T14:57:00.000-08:00

Despite being in a super duper committed relationship with skype, I've started seeing Netflix on the side. To pass the time.

You know.

Tonight, fajita crew reunion and the warm air is intoxicating.

full mermaid

2012-01-28T19:36:00.000-08:00

Ambling home along the black ice, stoic heart beating in time with the marching of able limbs. Thrust some words together, make them count.

We warmed our feet by the fireplace and played with chaise lounge psychology. Merlot stained lips, my favourite. Sideways bobby-pin for overgrown bangs and my hair gets more cape-like every day. It is a pretty waiting game, this winter. I am so perfectly, wildly content with a cold nose and warm feet, sliding my way across the winter sidewalk.

Here you go, something as pretty as my city.

fortune favours

2012-01-27T21:21:00.001-08:00

Pretty excited for this.

RIGHTRIGHTRIGHT?

january was a movie

2012-01-22T18:30:00.001-08:00

little kitchen

2012-01-22T18:25:00.001-08:00

2012-01-17T19:30:00.000-08:00

warm bedsheets and Dillinger 4, family dinner and snacks on snacks.

tonight I am undertaking my first banana cream pie, with two back up loaves of banana bread in case shit goes awry. BAKING! DOMESTICITY! Hello, Friday night!

heavy days

2012-01-09T19:22:00.000-08:00

grab a friend

and hop in bed.

yeahyeahyeah

2012-01-05T15:30:00.000-08:00

Goal #1 of 2012 accomplished:

Those are some pretty slim get-away sticks.

WINNERGAGNON

2011-12-30T13:41:00.001-08:00

snow angels on the lawn and we're holding hands.

2011-12-29T18:11:00.000-08:00

my nails are the same colour as the Cellier des Dauphin Côtes du Rhône prestige 2009.

2011-12-27T13:21:00.000-08:00

It's raining. Snuggled up with tea, aforementioned flannel pjs, Empire of Illusion, the little cat, and some slow jams. All quiet on the west-end front.

2011-12-25T20:56:00.001-08:00

Christmas flannel.

2011-12-22T11:40:00.000-08:00

I've watched this movie exactly once, but in the past seven years, the first two minutes and seven seconds of this scene have been re-enacted in my head countless times.

My love of pot bellies is right up there with my love of men with stubby ponytails. Why? Nobody knows.

2011-12-17T14:42:00.001-08:00

aaaaaaaaaahahahahahiohagdhaidhahahahahahahhahahahahahahaahah

wee oo wee oo

2011-12-16T12:06:00.000-08:00

Stress, innumerable hours, and countless edits later, I give to you...

Best Of 2011 Mixtape

2011-12-14T14:55:00.000-08:00

Her ear against his shoulder's hollow.

Atwood, Margaret. The Blind Assassin. 1st Edition. New York: Anchor Books, 2000. Print. (27)

olive, excuse me, i am trying to type

2011-12-08T12:23:00.001-08:00

Last night was the perfect welcome to a new home.

A found dresser on the sidewalk was helped home by new neighbours -- one old, heavy-set and business-like, one young, tall thin and blue-eyed -- and then joined by friends and my favourite in the new living room, mixing into social circles over board games and ciders.

Today, urban adventure and caffeination, 10/10 bed comfort and I can't wipe away this grin.

2011-11-30T14:04:00.001-08:00

Falling as surely as the rain, please let it turn to snow.

2011-11-28T16:46:00.001-08:00

"Sometimes I feel like I'm wasting my life."
"You're sitting on the couch eating chili and commenting on facebook photos. Sometimes that is life."

2011-11-21T14:26:00.001-08:00

Having your work* mentioned in the most recent edition of Vanity Fair is pretty cool, I guess.

*except that, next time, it will be my work.

just get in the boxes, jesus eff

2011-11-20T16:45:00.001-08:00

"what are you doing tonight?"

"packing."

I only want everything

2011-11-19T22:19:00.001-08:00

My little camera sure does love green.

2011-11-15T12:57:00.001-08:00

I never want to hear this again/I can't stop listening to it

Life is regular. I biked through High Park, took in the colours. Work, gym, general malaise.

i headed out to Lester Hill

2011-11-13T19:18:00.001-08:00

Piece by piece my art has found itself taken down and stowed in bags and boxes, tucked away for safety. I like clean clutter, busy walls, and I had forgotten some of the scars hidden behind photographs and paintings. I had forgotten the post-game daytime tipsy; the skate wheels dragging against the wall up the stairs; I had forgotten sprawling backwards, torso propped by elbows, head lilt with chin up, hair pinned; I had forgotten how the zipper of my high-waisted skirt had carved us into the wall; I had forgotten how when you left I covered it immediately with the darkest piece I owned and tucked you away behind the juxtaposition of black metal and Nordic countryside.

I will miss these walls, the love in these walls.

and others still, of the time contained inside such flawed shelter.

2011-11-13T16:14:00.001-08:00

Please just put your face into my hands, we could be friends.

where is my avocado green antique nightstand, eff

2011-11-09T18:13:00.000-08:00

tired heart, hungry brain.

gimme gimme stimulation.

2011-11-06T18:49:00.000-08:00

Politely declining your boss' invitation to come out for drinks because you are at home (following the 11-hour work day you completed) trying to put the finishing (brilliant) touches on a project for him; top of the Things I Did Not Know Would Cause Me Stress list.

Do you a) put your work on hold to go and get some social time in, thus bettering your working and personal relationship, or b) pass on the invitation in the hopes that it will present itself again at some point in the near future and hope further that he will be impressed with your dedication to the task at hand?

OR do you c) procrastinate project by updating your blahg and wondering how long it would take to tame your hair and if you only went for one drink thats, like, an hour and a half, and you have to be back at work in 9 hours, which still leaves you with, say, half an hour for transit to nearby bar and back, which leaves you with 7 hours until your next obligation. Deduct time for personal hygiene and morning rituals, there's still 6.25 hours left to play with, minus the 15 minutes for bike ride to work in the AM, realistically take another half an hour to get home and "unwind" via daily debriefing with roommate and maybe a few pages of Audrey Niffenegger's horrendous second novel, throw in another hour of solidly dedicated time to The Task at Hand and I've got a respectable 4.5 hours with which to snooze.

PAUSE, remind yourself that 4.5 hours of sleep is NBD except that you got less than that last night, AND have a work retreat tomorrow evening which means that tomorrow is actually a 20+ hour work day and is 4.5 hours of sleep really enough for 20+ hours of work, the tailend of which you will need to be on your absolute best A++ game to dazzle your boss and your bosses boss and your bosses bosses boss with your repartee and witty, topical observations about godknowswhat in the hopes that they might realize, hey, this kid's got something to offer, she's pretty quick, that one?

IS IT ENOUGH?

Or, could you push the limits of your sleep-deprived mental capacity, scan through the news tomorrow, stockpile, pre-plan those witty, topical observations, borrow (just for the night!) the opinions of those smarter, quicker, well-rested and better-worded, published on their best A++ game writers, regurgitate them at timely intervals over dinner and drinks, hope that your new navy blue Merino wool sweater dress with its delicate ruching along the shoulders and your soft camel Coach boots and grown-out bangs will distract the attention of those Currently In Charge of Your Career's Future from the undoubtedly poor, potentially unconvincing (how long has it been since I've acted?) delivery of Someone Else's Opinion , hopethat they will see before them a young woman who is at least well-presented andoccasionally quick-witted though clumsy in her delivery and that you will passthrough the night having gained their higher esteem, before you calculate outyour remaining hours of consciousness and do the same thing all over again forTuesday?

WHY CANTGOING OUT FOR A DRINK JUST BE GOING OUT FOR A DRINK.

and then option d) less expected but entirely practical; do you take the remainder of your yam & avocado roll in hand, march up the stairs with laptop dangling from the other, set your alarm for 4:45am and ponder, briefly, what you will do with this work ethic once you combine it with passion, once you've set foot in your tiny confidence shoes, once the published and established wit being cited is your own, once your fucking gmail lets you email the massive fucking file you've been working on for the past bajillion hours to your work email so you don't have to bring your laptop with all its potential undoings to work tomorrow to complete aforementioned project, fumble with the bedside lamp you broke last night and then zonk out the second your body collapses towards the mattress?

d FTW

SNOOZE.

2011-11-05T15:29:00.001-07:00

I mean, if I had to rank it.

BEST FAM

2011-11-05T14:58:00.000-07:00

to another year of looking better in your 50s than I do in my 20s...

love you, mama.

and high-five to Stevesy, 38 years of being with the hugest babe? You two are well on your way to being a (slightly) less famous Paul & Joanne.

You know what the most incredible thing is? That mom's ringtone for dad is Maybe I'm Amazed. AFTER THIRTY EIGHT YEARS.*

*sorry to blow your cover, mom. I guess you're not turning 39 again this year.

2011-11-04T08:09:00.000-07:00

it's November. Cut-offs and bike rides and still we stave off nostalgia.

2011-11-03T21:02:00.001-07:00

Ha.

http://hotbabesinpenguinsjerseys.tumblr.com/

2011-10-27T07:47:00.001-07:00

Check out my best guy!

2011-10-26T17:27:00.001-07:00

Cheese pizza, red wine, snuggles & Bon Iver...year in and year out, you are my favourite date.

2011-10-26T14:50:00.001-07:00

2011-10-21T09:50:00.000-07:00

The best part of being so short is how easily my queen-sized bed can be made into a fortress. My feet never dangle, not from any angle. 8 thousand pillows to buffer me while I roll around my own Bastille.

2011-10-20T11:55:00.000-07:00

Okay, but seriously, lets take a tally. Lets jot this day down for when the next cloudy one occurs.

Seeing the Wooden Sky last night, in a room filled with people I absolutely adore, with wine and whiskey and foot stomping and the loudest singalongs and smiles everywhere, wrapped in the most handsome of arms, was the best way I could've asked to welcome my next year.

Sleeping in this morning, and coffee-drunk stumbling home, running into friend after friend -- and then, to find Zombi 2 on dvd! My white whale eludes me no longer. You are mine, you hilariously incredible film.

Marching up the stairs and a phone call from Scammy Sammy, singing me happy birthday and even off-key is beautiful today. And then, finally, after years of searching and scouring libraries, yard sales, tack shops and the internet, the other two-thirds of the Ticket to Ride book series are in my mailbox. They're here, today.

And coming up, I am writing again. I have a career that I bend over backwards for, but that finally feels as if it's progressing. 25 Madison will no longer be home very soon, but I'll be living right next to Bellwoods with hardwood floors and cute art and books galore and the people I'm moving in with are incredible.

24, I guess you're not the end of the world.

(holy shit, though. 24.)

2011-10-19T13:48:00.001-07:00

Any story to do with a little boy and his dog gives me all the emotions.

2011-10-19T13:26:00.000-07:00

Complete with American flag ketchup & parsley.

Ah-mazing.

2011-10-16T18:17:00.000-07:00

and so you called her C--,

and so she found he called her C--, some kind of homage to the emotional equivalent of Reign in Blood, they had lived in. Curious to the point of morbid she read on tentatively, wondering at which point she'd recognize herself in a distorted reality. and so she realized doing this alone was silly, without considering it a moment she'd processed "your...new girlfriend?" and translated it into rolling the ripped cover of his paperback into a filter. Smoke, the haziest of veils seemed a safe place to note how technologically archaic the two still claimed to be, battling in longhand the correspondence of stubborn vs. ridiculous.

2011-10-16T17:45:00.000-07:00

remember when you were 14 and you were Brody Dalle and you had the words of Chomsky and the anger of the critically unharmed and you were going to change the world?

baby steps

2011-10-10T17:52:00.001-07:00

"You’re making plans for the future. You’re budgeting and you’re setting goals. You’re drinking less and you're picking up more hobbies. You’re on time and you’re recognizing things in other people and reflecting them on to yourself to see if you can change things. That’s awesome stuff

All of those things are things to be happy about. The last and most important thing? You can do anything you want…

There’s not really anything or anyone that can stop you if you want to continue working this job, or take another job doing something. If you want to go back to school and you have to make up credits to do so. If you want to move to paris with the money you’re making from a shitty job to realize a dream. You can do anything you want cause you’re 22.

What’s next? You’re going away for the weekend with people who genuinely like you for you and you’re going to get to drink, laugh, eat delicious shitty food and go on a road trip."

come back, home

2011-10-10T11:53:00.000-07:00

and in my head, she sings while he dances, quick kisses and fussing with the apron. baskets as decoration litter the cabinets, never filled with hidden trinkets as i'd pretend.

my stomach hurts, probably from all the maple squares.

holyshitholyshitholyshit

2011-10-02T22:18:00.000-07:00

hahahhahahahahahhhahahahahahAhHahhahahahahahahahaAhahhahahahahahaHA

HahahahHhah

ahahadfoidaifshaoisiahgdagdsogiddsgahhahahdgd

sorry, ma.

2011-10-01T15:50:00.001-07:00

Al Capony & Charlie are all finished up.

womp womp

2011-09-30T05:13:00.000-07:00

There's only so long you can hide out in the kitchen and flirtatiously banter eastern philosophy with your cute pseudo-hipster barback before you realize it's 4am and you haven't got the slightest clue where your life is going or what you want from it or who you want in it.

But, today is cut grass and tomorrow the rake to clean it.

all summer

2011-09-28T14:08:00.000-07:00

15 times a day.

don't make me make you fall in love

2011-09-28T07:37:00.001-07:00

Recipes that specify the usage of mixers and blenders are the worst. Hey, guys, I'm just going to be using a fork, wisp, and my arms. You ain't so fancy.

2011-09-27T12:32:00.001-07:00

I don't know what plans I made for tomorrow, but I am cancelling all of them because I just came home with twenty-two pounds worth of apples, and it is supposed to rain, and there is pie and apple-oatmeal muffins and apple-cranberry bread to be made.

A donkey bit my hand today, cheeky Brighty.

"Oooh, look at me, I grew up on a farm, I know all about animals, I am the horse whisperer."

Mama comes through with the most supportive of mockery.

If all goes according to plan...

2011-09-27T02:39:00.001-07:00

I'm trying to cram in as much as possible before the weather really turns, before the wind is cutting and dry, before strangers walk with their hands pocketed and their gaze downward, before toodling around on Timber at night is impossible.

I feel my muscles changing, just a little bit.

Here is how my day went:

2011-09-21T12:58:00.000-07:00

830: Wake up wrapped in arms

9:00 - 9:30: Bike home in a lazy, dawdling manner

9:45 - 11: Drink an iced coffee, nap, wake up refreshed and super energetic

11:45 - 1: Have ass kicked by trainer at the gym

1 - 2: Bike home flushed with sweat, unsuccessfully avoid running into former crush

(1:38-1:46: attempt to wrangle bangs into place, wipe the most obvious sweat off face, ignore the unseasonably warm weather and throw sweater over tank top & leggings, pretend to have gotten off bike to tie shoelace and not because biking uphill is an actual physical impossibility)

2 - 2:15: FLIP OUT that the book you have been searching for for 12 years finally arrived

2:15 - 2:30: Have two free nights at a resort in Muskoka gifted to you. More flipping out.

2:30 - 3: Clean off balcony. Uproot weeds, sweep up leaves, throw out four dead trees, scrub tiles, clean bbq

3:00 - 4: Bedroom surgery. Completely re-arrange everything.

4 - 4:05: Blog/brag

4:05 - 9: Realize there is an impending rainstorm, order Fresh, throw in laundry load, prepare to watch more Clone High whilst painting

9 - 12:00 - Horseshoe to see buds, Supermarket for a birthday

Insert various high fives and "is this my life?!" into the day sporadically.

better warm up to these warm-ups

2011-09-20T13:26:00.000-07:00

New Mariachi el Bronx on my speakers, entire text conversations made up of Clone High references, getting lost in a catalogue of photos of Newman and Birkin and Eastwood and Bowie and tonight, to the Jays. Bonering hard for Tuesday.

and so it continues

2011-09-16T18:55:00.001-07:00

2011-09-13T23:28:00.000-07:00

Every incarnation of this song is so good! guh.

i've just seen a face

2011-09-11T13:13:00.000-07:00

The best weather, blazers & clompy heels, layer upon layer upon layer, and still the sun is shining and still my tea is warm. It's nearly impossible to move from bed to the balcony, Margaret Atwood, walk with me.

LOOK AT MY LITTLE GUY!

2011-09-10T15:43:00.000-07:00

Little Gav'r! Are you so tuckered out from all that walking and cute-ing about?! Oh mah gahhhhd so exhausting!

2011-09-09T18:53:00.000-07:00

Detroit, a (poorly written) love letter

2011-09-07T15:15:00.000-07:00

The definitive, silently-established truth of our generation may be that we are an era rife with disdain for what yesterday was lauded as genius. Previously known for its employee policies and fine coffee beans Seattle, OR-native Starbucks now stands as a symbol of a heavily corporate, gentrified urban sprawl. Whole Foods, the Zach Morris-cell phone, lawn darts, Jose Canseco, and ICQ, all championed in the past and fallen out of public favour in the present.

Once the finest city in its nation, Detroit, too, was poised to be forgotten. Filled with the most exceptional examples of art deco architecture from the '20s, those buildings now stand near ruins, something lesser writers might describe as 'hauntingly beautiful' in their stark, abandoned existence. Previously the birthplace of America's automobiles, the Motor City suffered cruel irony as the product that put it on the map was used in droves for a mass exodus upon the economy's collapse.

Still, people stayed. Sure, some stayed because they were too poor to go elsewhere. Some stayed because they were trapped inside by the roaming packs of feral dogs which tend to run the city. Some stayed for the country's highest concentration of White Castle franchises. But most stayed when they recognized the heart within the good bones of their beloved city. Where else can one get half-pitchers for $2? Where else can they bowl for free? What other city has been called The Best Sports City in America? What other city possesses cab drivers willing to take you through the McDonald's Drive-Thru because walk-ins aren't welcome after 11pm, and will accept a burger instead of usual fare?

No, Detroit is the prom queen turned activist; an aged beauty looking for substance. And so it abounds! As Murakami said, there is a space where emptiness and substance overlap. Without question, he was referring to these streets. Quite literally empty, a quick glance at GoogleEarth will show the wild patches of green that have reclaimed downtown. Houses and businesses which were bulldozed are replaced by urban prairies, Woodward Avenue in all its finery - commissioned graffiti windows, Smilez-4-Realz grill outlets ($50 for an incisor diamond, $75 for a starter-grill) next to mom-and-pop home shops - finds its alleyways retaken by forestry. This leads visitors to feel they may have entered a dream; as they stumble in a somewhat intoxicated haze (recall those $2 pitchers) back to their hotels, fighting through bush as surely as if they were on African safari. Though at first it may be surreal, soon it feels perfectly natural to be bulldozing through quiet streets, aided in your dream by the complete lack of homeless people (because you have to be less than retarded not to find shelter amongst the 7 billion abandoned buildings).

When one stumbles into a pocket of civilization between ghost streets, the dream continues. Freshly squeezed lemonade and Coney Island hot dogs on every street corner. A massive casino in Greektown is just down the street from one of the most beautiful baseball stadiums known to man (Fig. 1 - 3). The Tiger carousel and Fly Ball Ferris Wheel may be old hat to those familiar with the city, but the constant rotation of delicious foodstuffs (Elephant Ears and Dippin' Dots, more BBQ than you can shake a stick at) is sure to have even the most stoic skeptic eating more than just their words. Once you've sufficiently stuffed yourself and thanked your server for a $6 King Can of Bud, a stop by the Ty Cobb statue is a must. Standing 13 feet of pure disregard for both the rules and social niceties, Cobb is spikes-up sliding home above the visitors bullpen. Peruse the other statues (Al Kaline, Hank Greenberg, Charlie Gehringer and Hal Newhouser) and then make your way back to the bullpen, where the visiting team is available and welcoming of fan interaction.

If you're able to drag yourself away from the ballpark (and are still hungry), Detroit is ready for you. Parks Old Style BBQ, Circa 1890 (an old-style saloon with swinging doors and grilled cheese on rye with curly fries & pickle for $3.25? YES PLEASE), the Bronx bar (craft breweries abound, despite malt liquor being the unofficial State-drink), and the Russell Street Deli are all there for you, not to mention the (approx) 1 million Mexican restaurants that the city's Hispanic populace ensures are both authentic and phenomenal.

End your day at the Majestic, a bowling alley/restaurant/bar/music venue where the bartenders will drive you home, the bowling is free for the first hour, the 24oz beers are $5, and the locals don't mind when you accidentally knock your bowling ball into their party. Everyone in Detroit is so friendly, they'll probably ask to combine groups and dance in the lanes (don't dance in the lanes). You might even find yourself invited to come watch the annual Detroit Chicken Race with them the next day.

Start your trip with an obligatory stop at Walgreens to grab bandaids and a 24-pack of Bud for $14, put it on ice in your hotel room sink (check Expedia and Travelosity for the sweetest deals, high-five your travel companions for never paying more than $80 a night at a 4-star hotel) and get ready to enjoy all the wonders this glorious town has to offer. Pay no mind to the falcons dive-bombing the wildlife in the alleys, take cover in the unbelievably awesome looking old Michigan Central Station or Vanity Ballroom if they become too aggressive, and enjoy a city touted as the New Brooklyn by those who love to fetishize the old Brooklyn in its pre-gentrified wonder. The history of the city as written by those who fled is no longer! Detroit, I love you.

sunny skies

2011-09-02T21:25:00.000-07:00

morning bike rides kick off the best days.

2011-09-02T21:22:00.000-07:00

'love hard when there is love to be had'

halifax

2011-09-02T21:17:00.000-07:00

today!

2011-09-01T06:55:00.000-07:00

Dear Juelz,

You are SIX!

(holy shit)

Today's Forced Snuggle Brought to You by Scoop Attack!

2011-08-31T00:21:00.000-07:00

It's worse for me, little goomba, you smell like a herd of bison.

2011-08-30T23:57:00.000-07:00

Tonight, we made wild advancements in the world of peanut butter & jelly to the tune of dreamy, sad, poppy nostalgia.

THIS JUST IN.

2011-08-29T14:24:00.000-07:00

Summer ain't over if you can still float on a balcony, gin & tonic ice cubes clinkin' while a babe grills you dinner on his BBQ and you can lean back in a haze of smoke and reggae.

/alarmist status updates about the death of summer.

2011-08-20T11:08:00.001-07:00

I wish you could just type "cool stuff" into Craigslist, and it would filter through all the crap for you.

please don't put your face into your hands, we could be friends

2011-08-17T15:04:00.000-07:00

When I was younger, bare feet in the grass was my nightmare. Twigs, little rocks, red ants, there was death in the moss. Or, at the very least, there might be tiny pain.

It surprised me to realize the other day that some of my favourite moments this summer have been quietly reading in the park, spread out across the grass (except for the time I accidentally lay in a patch of honeysuckle. I'm sorry, little bees. That land is yours). There are small grass slicks across the shoulders of my tees, proud badges of early mornings and silent words. The occasional amused giggle or induced blush leads me to roll over, my hair mixing with nature and keeping it like a secret until it's rinsed out and replaced with the scent of peony and vanilla, clementine and cassis, and my feet have returned home. To the safety of tile and plush carpet, and now this is the scorned sensation.

i welcome the stars with wine & guitars

2011-08-13T17:19:00.000-07:00

You're a beaut, Summer '11. An absolute dream.

& they're going twice as far

2011-08-10T16:41:00.000-07:00

I feel like the most frequent thing that I say is "I have really talented, remarkable friends" or some other wording of the same sentiment. It's true, though, in that I am lucky enough to be surrounded by creatively driven and intelligent people who are continually involved in really interesting things. Bobby gave me plenty of new sounds to fall in love with during this years Live in Bellwoods and now that the videos are posted, this one in particular sticks.

SOoooooOoOOOooO GOOD, AMIRITE?

dowhatisaycauseisaidit

2011-08-09T01:11:00.000-07:00

Will you please

just

effing

snuggle

you wonderful, stinky, difficult, phenomenal rat?

thank you.

swoooooooon

2011-08-04T07:46:00.000-07:00

holy smokes.

2011-08-02T21:05:00.000-07:00

Buy one pair of high-waisted pants; become a total grown up. Start saying things like "career progression plan" and "I don't need a milkshake at 11pm".

2011-07-29T15:31:00.000-07:00

6:31pm, wasted with Kristal, reading my collection of love letters and baking chocolate chip cookies for ice cream sandwiches. Yes.

arms pls

2011-07-26T06:26:00.000-07:00

Make first mistake at work; spend entire next morning committing intellectual flagellation and wishing you could ever fall back asleep.

love yuh bahd

2011-07-25T14:41:00.000-07:00

2011-07-25T09:25:00.000-07:00

playin' with my old toys is gettin' pretty lame

balance

2011-07-22T16:09:00.000-07:00

Because you were so good to me yesterday, Body, what with all the biking and the stumbling and the dancing and the running and the metabolizing alcohol and the climbing and the swimming and the giggling in place of sleeping, today and tomorrow are your days.

Pedicures and massages and smoothies for you, old friend. Sleep for a proper eight hours and we'll let my peach skin dissolve those bruises. They're summer worthy legs, but they're not particularly ladylike at the moment.

2011-07-22T09:49:00.000-07:00

Last night was perfect.

From the SuperSoaker to relieve softball heat, to the ever-growing number of fans and friends nearby, to arriving en masse at the pool. Departing in various stages of undress and soaked clothing and intoxication, to kill time before the pool is available again. From climbing in over the fence with the aid of friends to climbing out under the direction of officers and with hundreds of dives and plunges and kisses and new friends and old friends in between.

To ciders and holding hands and bike riding like little bandits home to listen to Fleetwood Mac, I just want to lay here and feel so light forever.

2011-07-18T09:46:00.001-07:00

"You're like the movie, Firestarter. Except that you're an adult, and basically just clumsy."

2011-07-15T23:14:00.001-07:00

We are walking along the water.

But wait. That's not right. We are walking in a parking lot, along the waterfront. This distinction is important for Torontonians, though not for anyone else.
To our right there is water, to our left there are cars. These are small details to what I recall. In my memory, there is only her swishing ponytail.
Short, dark, near black at this stage. It is dark brown naturally, but the darker the better for her. Always so tanned, with her freshly-cut-grass eyes consistently acting as the only accessory. She is wearing my shirt -- Tsunami Bomb, purchased earlier that year at Warped Tour. I was filled with envy and devastation and determination that night, convinced there was nothing separating that stage from myself, save my own lack of musical imagination. I bought the shirt based on two things -- 1) it was black, it wouldn't show pit stains at the various shows I went to, and 2) it had bat wings on the back. Bat wings were THECOOLEST, had you never heard of AFI? My friend, catch up.

So there we were. Her, ponytail, short and swinging, in jean capris and sneakers. She could've been my age from behind. In fact, you'd have been in the minority not to mistake her for such. I felt so clunky in comparison, so full of childish exuberance and lacking in grace. She was not necessarily holding monopoly on such things, but she was so fresh. All but skipping, hand in hand with her husband, she progressed through the parking lot. Never sure of where our car was, never sure of which direction to be looking, she bounced. It is my favoutite memory of her.

It is the most carefree I have seen her before -- we had just been to see the Sex Pistols, "it's time, you will appreciate this when you're older, you didn't get to, goddammit, you never saw Strummer, respect the iconography which came before", one couldn't help but be carefree. Johnny Rotten, cum Lydon, had stormed off the stage, upset that 20 years later fans would still spit at him. It was your thing, guy. You created this. But he is the same, he does not appreciate the novelty of the past. She found this amusing, but was clearly enjoying this for novelty alone. "Lend me something that's cool. I don't know what's fitting for this kind of thing, not anymore. I never was into that whole style, but you know your father. This is live history to him, so finish sewing your patches and lets go".

Swish, swish, swish. Back and forth. She giggles, she cannot stop grinning. This may not be your scene, mama, but you are in your element. Her hand is held with great tenderness. With trepidation, revisiting a time she accommodated but did not necessarily pursue alone. They go, together, across the parking lot. Finding the car, our next great adventure. I lag behind, I am self-conscious, I am in stupid plaid pants, I love punk rock too much, I am too cool to walk directly with my parents.

I am so happy to see my future in flesh.

I lied.

2011-07-15T12:11:00.001-07:00

Today is actually dedicated to breakfast smoothies, CYKL classes, healthy lunches, and Yankees dates.

Oh, and gin.
Duh.

2011-07-15T06:27:00.001-07:00

In honour of my 10 year anniversary with Josh F. Lindley, today is dedicated to Fugazi, figuring out which member of Closet Monster is the cutest, and writing songs about how mom won't let me shave my head.

2011-07-09T14:33:00.001-07:00

Remember the summer everyone fell in love with Kristal Kent & the ladies of the OMWinners?

That was/is a great summer.

2011-07-05T19:19:00.001-07:00

It's a pretty incredible circumstance when your favourite people are directly responsible for your favourite things.

Good on ya, Chris.

where is my mind

2011-07-05T17:31:00.001-07:00

There is still lemonade to be had on the balcony with a book and the breeze, and popsicles are just as cold whether they're store-bought or homemade.
Lighten, loosen, drift.

If you need me, I'll be stoned and laying in the middle of my living room floor, feet up, listening to the Beatles. All encompassing sound, let go, let go, let go.

ghosted

2011-07-02T13:13:00.000-07:00

hello, little nap jam!

This sweet diddy is best enjoyed with pb&j, lemonade, and fuzzy memories of the most fun.

2011-06-28T21:48:00.001-07:00

New Job Day One is alternately titled Setting An Alarm for 6:45am is Both Revolting and Inhumane.

big ups to buddies

2011-06-27T22:56:00.000-07:00

So nice to see them bracelets together. I'm finishing up a few more in the next couple'a days.

2011-06-27T00:01:00.001-07:00

This song, only this song.

super sessie

2011-06-24T22:57:00.000-07:00

With the help of my porcelain white skin base, coupled with a wardrobe almost entirely comprised of v-necks and bikini tops, I had the unfortunate realization today that my breasts have taken on a rather neapolitan colour pattern.

Fuck.

I may have made that sound worse than it really is, but providing photo documentation of my current tragic state is beyond even my sense of crass realism.

2011-06-24T13:13:00.001-07:00

barooooooo

2011-06-22T12:56:00.001-07:00

Sarah took this when leaving my house the other day. My neighbours may be a nightmare, but boy howdy do I love their dog.

Juelz update!

2011-06-20T21:38:00.000-07:00

How's everyones favourite snorgler doing?

Still the fahking cutest! Come here you smelly wonder! I am going to kiss your fluffy face!

In other news, she still hates being held.

2011-06-20T19:19:00.000-07:00

I've kept my favourite photo of my dad and I on my desk since my mom finally released it from its rotation on hallway display. It sat, framed, for years. I thought it might never leave my parents house, and the second she replaced it with a new "chelsea as child" shot, I grabbed it and ran.

In our old house, the one in which I grew up, we had stairs with railings leading up the walkway. Only until I was about 5 or 6, though, when dad decided the railings were unsightly and removed them. This left us as kids free to tear down the stairs with our arms wide open, tiny planes on a short runway. Wooden, with a few bricks laying flat in the middle, they parted my parents beloved gardens (huge peony bushes on both sides, always mom's yellow tulips).

Sundays were gardening and maintenance days, all year long. Mom and I would come home from church, I would flee to my room to change into sweats (on this particular day, a pink sweat suit, with purple turtleneck underneath, and blue vest covered in flowers), inhale the grilled cheese dad always had ready for its final flip as soon as we walked in, and join him in the garden or garage, where Q107's Psychedelic Sundays would be blasting from a tiny stereo, hooked up to the orange extension cord so it could move about with us. I'd follow that extension cord, fluorescently snaking through the gravel to wherever in the yard dad was. I fancied myself quite the helper -- collecting crab apples from my little tree, picking up fallen birch bark to write letters on, checking the pear tree for edible specimens (there were never any), and bravely dumping the compost down the hill towards the forest (always under duress). I lived for Sundays.

If it were warm, and Alex were sleeping or able to crawl around on his own, I can see mom in the garden, hair piled in a tiny bun, blue & white tube top and high-waisted shorts, gardening gloves, weeding, always weeding.

But it is dad in the garage I remember the most. I don't know what he was doing -- we're not exactly a handy family, nor prone to tinkering. For the entirety of my adult life, it has been easier to think of dad stepping out of GQ than chopping wood. But there he was. Always fixing, always building, always bettering the things around us, and us in turn.

The day of our photo, dad is 90s'd-out. Loose red tee, black jeans, loafers. He was leaning on the stair railing, when I sauntered up and adopted the same pose, leaning on his hip. My white-blonde hair is barely tamed by a barrette, and dad's doing his incredulous smile. The back is dated April '91, and captioned "Workin' in the yard with daddy".

Behind us, the bushes are just beginning to bloom. There is a watering bucket to our left. I have not once been able to look at this photo without feeling that the world is in front of me. Or, in dad's words, every day is Christmas.

2011-06-16T14:53:00.000-07:00

dream big, girl. dream so big that if the sky falls, you're too far above it to notice.

lunch with peter pan

2011-06-16T14:46:00.000-07:00

Wild boar sausages and gin&lemonade

driftin'

2011-06-16T14:30:00.000-07:00

totally worth the bike ride.