une semaine

Three provinces. Three dance parties. Three days.
These last series of hours have been little more than excursion to and from Manitoba. Quebec. Ontario. To travel about Canada this way in that time allows for uncanny immediate social observation and I have made interpretations, if these places were to be assessed as people to sleep with – which is a good enough assessment as any. Conclusion? Manitoba as a long-distance lover, obviously. Quebec, the beautiful, rebellious little slut who smokes, drinks, and curses the church would be an unapologetic tryst. Ontario on the other hand, the epicenter of normalcy in this country, would be like loving a banker; clean fun, but dry and uninspired --- --- ---
Break. Time has passed since dancing in various throes of enthusiasm and days have been full. Please excuse the inanimate provincial sex fantasies above; I am still hungry as ever for Henry Miller. The other notable moments spent in real life have consisted of strong conversation with others, lazing with Epically Richard in Parc la Fontaine or in school, which is new and wonderful. Days are opening and closing at lightening speeds and it is hard to believe a week has gone by since being ‘home’ but I am happy to be back.--- --- ---

I think it is worth mentioning that I have been entertaining many conversations lately about the multi-pronged, impossible subject of love (or something like it). I don’t know if the reason for this is simply because a bunch of my intimate people are falling simultaneously into and out of these feelings of late or if perhaps a collective of us have realized all of a sudden that it really isn’t what we were told it would feel like at all. (The good and bad.) In shorthand, these are the broad and sweeping topics of totally enthralling conversation I have been having recently: Sex. Monogamy, Poly-amorous relationships, Love, Narratives. Girlfriends. Boyfriends. Mr. Right. (Mr. Big) Wives. Husbands. Milfs. Dilfs. Mothers. Fathers. Babies. Soul mates. Divorcées. Bachelors. Spinsters. Life partners. Lesbians. Multi-generations. Conversations. Separation. Togetherness. Exes. Friends. Lovers. Exclusivity. Reality.
All former certainty is gone; we are tearing down the walls.
Probing people to talk about real things, lapping their experiences/actions up like a drunk and meditating on the variations has left me a bit wild. My processes are in overload. I do not know what to think any longer. --- --- ---

I have been told in school that we need to specialize our writing, as journalists. Be able to work in multiple areas of media, but be expert in a few. I have decided that sexuality – as a solid niche market- is a safe bet for me. Followed closely by gender politics. And the environment. I wonder what Linda Kay is going to tell me. That same day we practiced doing a ‘lede’, which is simply the first sentence in a story. Mine was the following: Small town liberal arts student cashes in the Susan Carson. No good, evidently - I was told it wasn’t sexy enough. Ha. Who said newspapers were dead? At least blogs are alive and well. even if they are still irrelevant.