simone de beauvoir bound

(27pigeons)

so, it is official.

two thumbs north, concordia. Major: Journalism; Minor: Womens Studies (quite a surprise, my second choice was french)

I could not be happier, obviously; though I would still fancy france. Perhaps at Christmas. If I dont get my Quebec Residency school is going to cost an arm and a leg so what is another thousand dollars on a student loan hey? I'll pay it off when I'm thirty.

Donc, that is the neighbourhood. not my neighbourhood, thank god, but burlington nonetheless. I spent a week with my uncle and grandparents at an elderly pace. I read a whole book, watched women on the view bicker at eachother and was thouroughly disappointed with what the value village had to offer me in terms of gems. Niagra Falls is cool as heck though.

When I returned I had a six month to attend to, which happened to befall the same nite as an 'elderly' themed party put on by the UQAM art students. Remi & I farine'd our hair & away we went. Forever young.

Oh, but the best part was that no one else really dressed up as hardcore as us, so there I was - the seul elder anglo with mumbum in FULL effect - amongst hip art students dancing to fardoche.










this is remi, my old husband:

full apologies - for the record - that all these pictures are sideways. I am totally illiterate; the fact that I basically failed ' intro communication technology ' while simultaneously making it into journalism baffles my mind, but I'll accept it.






---------- finally, may I present the newfound fresh visuals I have found on my walk to work. Both queercapitalism & barcode bush are GENIUS, n'est pas? I want to start tagging shit like that in a BIG way. Especially when I get back to winnipeg this summer

... I know a storefront that could use a little moustache...


-------> expect me home at the end of july, tba.









but otherwise, JANELLEJOY is hitting the mtl hard in next week, which will be met with sangria raqlette nights, scissor tattoos and el perro del mar as she rings in her anniversaire. The anticipation is killing me, obviously, but in the meantime I will continue to catch the graff.

also, all others should know that - while I am not an ambassador for winnipeg - I AM going to be sticking around these parts for the next four years as it turns out, which is ample time for visits & hangouts if a vacation is due... hm?












but Im off to level 5 french class. bien contente, larrybeth III

ps: juste parse que c'etais rigolo...

http://www.tetesaclaques.tv/video.php?vid=201

I deliver

here's some old news.









I was in a burlesque awhile ago. well, technically not IN it; around it. I think that the highights were the following:
-me dancing in a cage to 'I am the tiger' by abba. & then being released onto two woodland creatures, whip in hand.
- A beautiful black lesbian with a strap-on doing a number to 'very personal jesus'; wine. water. crucifixion. everything.
- nat King Pole, a drag rapper talking about how many speeds she has in her dick & how this is far superior to a real penis.
- a flashdance number, avec d'eau. googled animal jokes delivered during clean up...
- tiger makeouts with mikel, the artistic directior who called me out of kareoke. He told me he wants me to mc until I am old & fat. I shook him on it.
- A 'Girlfriend in a Coma' number in which prince charming has to preform cullungulis (spellcheck?) on snow white to revive her.
-the chicken dance (nananananana, naananan nananana clap clap clap clap) involving balloons that pop to reveal pasties, & then, finally, the laying of an egg (hidden in a va jay jay) & then the EATING of an egg!!!ahhhhhhhhhhh.
- the finale - in which all the animals were shot by a hunter, followed by a thriller danceparty.

this was one of the craziest things I have ever done in my life. & I am glad I did it; it deserves retrospection 3mos after the fact. 21 forever young. But since that time the 22 (age, not cafe) has come and gone.

finally... only in montreal (youtube): this is the mayhem that IS living in a town with a team. RIP Jets? hello Habs fans.



out. out. out. & one more for french grandmothers,



xo lo.

''your city's a sucker my city's a creep.''

''your city is stoned, my city's in heat''


I have been eyeballing friendly manitoba blogs to the max these days, a little envious of each micro-wpg-celebrity I happen to recognize within the frames and contexts. The celebration that follows the break of winter in that town is utterly infectious; I can feel the symptoms here & find myself in an upsweep of nostalgia for veggie burgers on patios, the princess goodwill, random acquaintences in la rue, deuce slingin', f&q floor gabbing and the consumption of slurpees at a pace unseen anywhere beyond the provincial border. Each face I see, each staple winnipeg locale, each event preserved infinately on the www, has inspired newfound resolve on my part to hit up the (204) for at least a couple weeks in summer; potentially after (hopefully) hosting some of my own winni guests & after the government decides to send my lover back to fancy france...

Otherwise, I wont complain much because winter has been vanquished in montreal as well, warranting more bare leg than necessary but nevertheless lending a light mood to all those who craved this kind of sunlight in those long winter months. Between today, yesterday and the day before I have walked a thousand miles, thrifted, sported oversized vintage sunwear and people-watched to my heart's content.I have also managed to keep myself unobducted and unaccosted for a full twenty four hours, which is a feat indeed during summer in this city.

I dont want to be rant-y or anything, but personally all the happy spring in the air is juxtaposed and downright shit on at times by a feeling of utter dread when I leave the confines of my home. The subtle insanity of fear creeps slowly inward from the fringes, my eyes have trained themselves to dart about watchfully at every turn. in the days of late my hand grips tightly onto the weapon concealed in my pocket - kept close even in the sunniest of hours. I am absolutely exausted of this state already, but understand VERY well that a girl cant be too careful when flying loco-ono all the time. The events that have led me into this state are numerous and spread themselves steadily throughtout my history as a social being, pedestrian, object, victim, girl/woman, sex. It is so engrained, yet so easily subdude, just to be habitually startled again & again by the same man, different face.

For the tenth time in the eight months of being here I have felt in danger on the streets - ultimately all alone to the will and harm doing of another, despite the abundance of people-traffic. No one wants to help anyone else in this town, and so if a man follows you for five blocks, spewing insanity and malcontent in a barely recognized tongue, you are on your own to fly down the metero steps and jump on the first train you can.

Potentially part of my nostalgia for winnipeg has something to do with the fact that I had never felt this anxious, watchful stance while walking the streets. There are no billboards that read '1/6 Quebecois suffers from a mental malady', and no one proving it, daily.




-- --- ----- ---- ---- --- --- --- ---
but,

After a little reflectionI have come to realize is that one needent be at home to feel at home.
Merely speaking with a friend, looking over the multiplicity of blogs (matching all its peices), & simply being nostalgic for a town is the reason why I want to keep returning without wanting to stay. I am a weakerthan, but a wanderer.

--- --- --- --- --


and also, if I were there and not here I would miss the bells of various churches in the mornings, the ample people watching, the metero musicians, evesdropping on french conversations; Perhaps this is worth all the creepers that seem to permeate my sanity.








more soon, je vous promets. I plan to hit some streets hard & capture all the new graff spring in montreal bears on its skin.

affecteusement, loco.