party

is it so hard to see?
I don't want to be a drag
I just want to be a part of you
I just want to be a part of you

is it so hard to see?
I don't want to cause more trouble
I just want to be a part of you
I just want to be a part of you

is it so hard to see?
I don't want to stay at home
I just want to be a part of it
I just want to be a part of it

come on over baby
there's a party going on
come on over baby
there's a party going on

come on over baby
there's a party going on
come on over baby
there's a party all night long

--- --- --- --- --- --- -- el perro del mar

is the most beautiful woman I have ever seen perform.

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I spent my morning intertwined in limbs & hands & breath & imagined them squeezing all the air from my lungs. Love is pain & that is my final answer. The thought of slipping into a quiet co-dependance with another, followed by a lengthy separation is unravelling me, slowly.

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But anyhow, I am off to shave my head. see you in SIX DAYS. ack. LB

the diva cup

when people comment on blogs, I get butterflies.
Butterflies & hell-bent inklings to write replies.

------

firstly, my dear dick.

I wrote 'its hard being a man' as the title of that blog for a very good reason; I know men suffer greatly. I was merely disenthused about the tired & unnecessary narrative about women in triangles. I personally believe it is alive & well; I have seen it manifest itself. Plath & Bradgelina immediately spring to mind & Allison Komishon is the reason your brother and I arent married. - - - I do regret writing 'other woman' though. It has a negative connotation to it. It is pejorative. I should have typed the word 'next' in its place, because its not as if I am trying to hide her (expertly or otherwise). She is here. She is sleeping here. thus, all my ideas about exes and others and lovers is literally in my home defining itself to me with time... it is a madness\acceptance I never knew could exist. This has led me to ebb towards your belief in the territorial energies of love (or sense of entitlement), although something about it feels too colonial to fully accept. I dont know. I dont think a person can (or should) possess another person like that, or something. I dont know. Ask me again in August. - - -

secondly (only by timing), my madgesty.
I am home on the 24th, staying a month.
stoaked. stoaked. stoaked. I will hopefully 'moonlight' pmix & the 22 once again, party with my grandparents, eat veggie burgers, take yoga classes, wine with my parents (& let them feed me for awhile), thrift the exchange district, dance every evening, ride the bicycle of doom (bottoms up!), karaoke my heart out, and smoke manitoba grass (gravitating to you at every possible opportunity that is bestowed to me, of course) yesss... I, too have dropped the ball correspondance wise - and am sorry, but it doest matter because in two weeks I am going to devour you ...

Thirdly, to Budyk especially, I made a shirt today which read 'lick free or die trying.' ha.

Lastly, to no one specifically, I am becoming a bushier feminist as I age & need to spread the word: get the diva cup. peroid.

'' It's hard being a Man ''

The human soul, it seems to me, orientates itself afresh every now & then. It is doing so now. Now one can see it whole, therefore, the best of us catch a glimpse of a nose, a shoulder, something turning away, always in movement. Still, it seems better to me to catch this glimpse.
- Virginia Woolf. Christmas Day, 1922.

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Mail Manifesto Exhibit No. 2


my beautiful, beautiful grandparents.
oh my word ! I see my dad in their faces.
I am very sad to be missing the 60th, but
we will have them to ourselves when we arrive.
a double date, almost.

The concept of going through 60 years of marriage with another person perplexes me. I am baffled by it. We as a society have become so used to instant-gratification. I am not sure this type of relationship exists for real in us. Maybe it depends on the people. I have close proof of its existance, but what will love look like in another 60 years?

- - - -

& speaking of love, all the events leading up to yesterday's introduction burned vividly in my mind as I made my way to the party where - by degree of separation only known in winnipeg - I was about to finally meet the OTHER other... I had zero idea what to expect of her, & my imagination did nothing save regurgitate feelings of inadequacy, comparason, rejection. Luckily for me, the person I thought to be the better version of myself turned out more kindred than I could have ever dreamed. I saw the same extrovert. The same interests. The same insecurities. The same series of events. The same jealousies. Yes, I promised not to compare notes, but they sprang forth from her mouth within the hour of my acquaintence and I could do nothing but nod in silent knowing. Pent up, twin feelings I have so intimately housed. I am pleased. For so long her existance was little more than an abstract stranger who was easy to blame, futile to warn. The truth? She is beautiful, confident, intelligent & it doesnt make me feel like any less of a woman anymore. In fact, I feel stronger in solidarity. You REALLY never know who is about to propell themselves into your company & under what circumstances.

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& a final note. it makes me VERY ILL that usually women polarize themelves instead of profiting from eachothers collective experiences in social triangles. why do women hate the other woman? I reject it, now more than ever & instead raise my glass to the other woman.
Bievenue à Montréal. LB.