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you know how everything is especially poignant when you're sitting drunk, alone in a public park at night? well, i totally just had one of those moments.
i just got off work from the bullshit dance party i supervise every wednesday and i went to one of the chinese restaurants around my house for some pork before bed. when i walked outside i heard a girl jokingly say to her boyfriend, "don't tell me what to do." and he slapped her across the face. HARD.
honestly, i saw her head whip around as i was unlocking my front door. i wanted to say something. i wanted to fucking destroy the dude that slapped her. i wanted to rip his goddamn guts out and shove them down his piece of shit throat. i didn't, partially because i was at my house but, mostly because he had a car full of dudes that are more than likely also complete wastes of skin.
i'm sick to my stomach and there is nothing i can do about it because, evidently, these bros have no issues beating up women. i hate that i have to witness incidents like this when i don't have all the power in the world. if it were up to me, hey fucktards, you'd be crippled and dickless.
you retarded pieces of shit. we don't need or want you here. you make all of us look bad and i hope you crash on your drunken ride back to whatever bullshit west 905 "city" you came from. i fucking hate you and i hope you die before you can ever reproduce.
we stumbled across the quality inn one night and ended up there five times in two weeks. one time it filled up with ossington run-off, another we quietly retreated when we noticed tommy lee (the elderly owner) was asleep at the bar. it's a classic little dive with a world of potential and i hope it doesn't get ruined when he eventually kicks it.
there was a wild storm this evening. it got really dark and poured down rain that blew around in circles. it was the first time i thought, "hmm. literal sheets of rain." after it passed, it looked pretty creepy outside for awhile like, post-apocalyptic yellow, but ended up oddly beautiful. i, of course, took pictures. go clouds!
i picked up a little book called frank at show & tell gallery last week. at first i thought, porn! then, i thought, who are these naked broads? then, i saw brandy eve allen's polaroids of one night stands and i went to her website and... i dunno, dude. its mostly self portraits and she's totally naked in a bunch of them. get this - in some photos she stepped it up and has multiple naked selves! man, this bitch is ballsy. like whoa.
at this time six years ago i was on tour with a band i hardly knew. i consequently worked for their record label for two years afterwards. it was a sort-of communal living space/office where we all worked tirelessly and shared everything we made (cooked or earned). it was hard but we were usually well rewarded with drugs, music industry perks and endless affection. when i left the label, i was forced to leave that 'family' behind. we would still talk, i guess, but i always felt a disconnect between myself and them. people left and others joined. i barely recognize the roster now, but i'm not meant to. i'm not their demographic and i'm not sure i ever was.
right before i stopped showing up to work the band i had begun this journey with broke up. after years of trying and almost getting there, they quit. it was taken well by most and i always considered it the right move. last weekend, that band reunited for the first show since their demise in 2005. i, along with some other og's, came along for the ride.
fuck, this might be awful.
i'm not that person anymore. i want to eat a nice brunch with my boyfriend on saturday morning before we ride our bikes around the city and check out antiques or art or daytime drunkeness. i want to spend money on clothes and take trips to places you can't get to in a van. i go to yoga class and eat a lot of vegetables and try to take. a. deep. breath. every once and awhile. i've been waiting for this entry to come to me, to simply arrive in my mind like a reminiscing fairy full of good feelings and funny stories... but it's not happening. i'm tired. my neck hurts from sleeping in a bed that wasn't mine and headbanging onstage too hard while i was shouting along lyrics about political injustice and societal woes.
i don't know what this weekend symbolized for anyone else. the end of an era? a kind of bat mitzvah to our true adult life? don't mistake when i say: i had fun. i laughed and drank and smoked and endulged but i can't do that every night. i've often thought about how much i would love to be in a band again and tour, record, hang and party every night. i've realized this is not what i want. i want to create, sure, but in some more organic way.
beer tents and board shorts are not in my artistic future.
