where you been so long?

Winnipeg, j'arriverai; let the eating begin. 

Anticipation for healthy doses of all that is the best in my prairie city are nigh.  As always, there is slight nervousness about making the trek and greeting the familiar. Some weird pressure to collectively explain that everything here is more, even if it feels like less. I need to return, recharge, read, relaxxx instead of exhaustingly waiting for the lingering, quiet hours to finally snuff out the year.

Hopefully, the heaps of mes devoirs should keep me roosting at my favourite local places that I miss, with fate resting in the social gods of Corydon and Osborne. 

Please come out and be merry. I'll see you soon, 

Loco

tits (the season) pics

I'll have a blue Christmas without you

my balls feel blue just thinking about you

Decorations of red on a green Christmas tree

Won't mean a thing dear, if you're not pleasing me

& when those blue snowflakes start falling

thats when those blue memories start calling

You'll be doing all right with your Christmas of white

But I'll have blue, blue balls for Christmas

(curtain call)

crystal ball

it is never the right time for life.

you know? It swoops down, grabs on, and puts you on a path in a different direction.

I am thinking a lot about my existential life. who are my friends? what is my job? why do I live here? where do I belong? and keep wondering if the people who have turned back home are the ones who are crazy, or if it's me.

I am scared for the staff meeting. shit. Maybe I won't have a job at the end of the day. Then it will be time to BOUGE. or just relax and enjoy my unemployment. 

(written ?? published Feb)

blue (balls) for christmas

so here's my bi-annual(?) burlesque money shot. balls in.
You know, to keep tradition alive.



If you're in MTL show up to:

TITS THE SEASON... to be naughty
Dec. 11 & 12! CAFE CLEOPATRE! 10 p.m.!
Tickets 10 or 8 with perishable food item.

snowsuit to skivvies, LB

light in the tunnel of a winter dark

There is calm as the snow climbs window sills and flat surfaces, white on white on white. Welcome to Winter, MTL it suits you just fine. A clean change from shades of grey. 

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everything imploded: a socially etarded weekend, an email scam, a terrible (un)dress, a possibly-usurped job (by a to-be baby's daddy?!?), an inexcusable application blunder, and the usual doses of existential angst that pull me undertow. 

(Breathe into a bag) What am I doing with my life? What is my life doing for my life? 

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Last week Janelle and I sat about her empty house, drank red wine, spoke, literally for hours, about nothing - everything - nothing, and realized at the end of it all that we are both alone over here; we are all we have. 

The realization was scary (also a tad overdramatic), but we laughed/loathed about the state of our pathetic weekly dates with each other and the lack of SOMETHING in our lives that makes us want to keep living. 

Alternately, we have both been mad about town.

Lo and behold, a mere two days after languishing on her comforter talking doom and gloom,we rode the metro in the morning as the sun was rising, the birds were singing, and people were on their ways to work at wee hours after a wild night of Montreal madness. It was quite funny and quite fucked up. Wild-eyed, lipstick-smeared, at least we are alive. Well, but weathered; morale in a questionable state, lonely for our friends who have left or stayed behind. 

visit. return. 

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Are we doomed? Is J'check doomed? Probable. Head over to the manstream.

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Sorry about all of this, really. I have been attempting to bring "blogging" back into my life in some meaningful way,that is both more than business and absolute business.  It's difficult to disassociate editing for paper and writing for pleasure these days. This is the in-between moment, so forgive the hiccups in prose and points, as I am sure this whole post makes me sound staccato and strung out. right? right.

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no love lost, LOCO

talkin' bout

"Young lady, I feel really sorry for your generation," she told me. 

Looking up from a spot on the metro station floor, indignant face. 

"But you don't even know me," was the cool reply - as though her words hadn't stung at all.

"Oh, yes I do," she assured. "I can tell by the way you smiled at me right then. You are all lost. You have lost your individuality. I feel really sad for you." 

She got on the metro and me behind her, saying nothing more. We sat across and stared. When the door opened, I went out, representing my generation.