Tuesday
the sky is blue
and deep
and if i stare long enough
i feel my body fall away
the way it feels when you look up
from the bottom of a pool
and the sound of this fourth floor apartment and the vp roaring
is similar also
eventually
my eyes fall to the ground
the same way eventually
you push to the surface
a small furry dog with a curly tail
and a pretty owner
shits
delicately
on the front lawn of the neighbouring apartment building
and kicks at the grass upon completion
of his task
a sign announces 1, 2 and 3 bedroom rentals
and a man swears at the curb
inexplicably
directly across from me
crowded balconies sit abandoned
in the bleaching sunlight of high noon
i think about smoking
and fucking
and other things i'd rather be doing
than sitting here
trying to work
my eyes turn inwards
the fan rotates
and
every four seconds
stirs the leaves of the plant
my bike smells of wd40
and this mixes with stale coffee
from this morning
and the cat litter
and the green "melon" scented candle
i hate the cbc theme
it hums from the television
out of sight around the corner
and i hate the breathless eager voices
of the victorious athletes they interview
even though
as they won
i loved them
a mirror east of me
tells me that i am overtired
and that my head hurts for good reason
it tells me my hair is unreasonable
defying gravity the way it does
and that the fan
still rotates
every four seconds
and the sky is still
almost impossibly
blue
Friday
Gaydar
Across the great electronic void, someone wrote that some are seeing straight girls as the new pink.
Since I was in high school, it's been kind of "in" to be bi. Kind of. Now, like some sort of chihuahua infestation, like some hail storm of kolor sunglasses, seems like every straight girl's gone gaga for the girls.
So.
What do we, the genuinely queer, do with this information?
It's dangerous waters, to be sure. All of a sudden, we're not safe to stare at that girl in the subway. All of a sudden... they're aware that we're looking, because, just out of curiosity, just in style, they're looking, too.
Now. I'm not one for us/them lingo. Seriously. I'm not. But I hate to say it, they're them. And you know who they are because you, being one of us, have a little thing called Gaydar. It's a damn useful skill, but now it's become even more vital.
I used to explain gaydar to my heterofriends as a sort of mere observational skill. I told them that all I did was "look at them looking, to see where they looked." But in times like these, if you want to prevent being a mere experiment, if you don't want to end up tossed aside like all those small curly-haired dogs and aviator sunglasses and socklike winter boots, one needs must tone the gaydar muscles.
Gaydar is not just about looking for looking. Gaydar is a whole body language. Gaydar is nails, hair, shoes, yes, but in the city, diversified and professional dykes are rampant! One can't just hope for converse and olive canvas. Besides, diversified and professional lesbians like ourselves might just not dig the hungry artsy student lezzer look. With increasing visibility, we've come out of the closet for a second time. Before, we married asexual men. Then we dressed like men. Then we dressed like the two queer characters on tv. In every sense we took a step towards being seen and tolerated and accepted. Now, it's such that we are expected at every street corner. Our businesses and schools use "partner" and read stories about "alternative families." This is all good news. Great news, really.
But, to be quite honest, it makes each other harder to find.
There was a time (HAH, as James Brown would say) when I was entirely willing to be the tested waters of youthful sexuasion. There was a time when I practically defined the territory. Hell, I was THE lesbian in my high school. Hell knows I had my fun with that. And with every girl who got a sense of freedom, with every girl who knew her body better for having been with me, I felt like some kinda superhero liberator. But now I'm here, 22, having just got out of a 2 year relationship with yet another woman who thought, maybe, yeah....but no.
There was a time when experimentation was both fun, interesting and admirable. But now. Now I know what I want. And I want somebody who knows what they want, too.
So. To the gaydarmobile, batmullet! Surely I've still got it. Right? It's just like riding a bike! Right?
But it's not. I've lost it, folks. The L Word and my past experiences have me practicing approach-avoidance like a kid scared of dogs. And it helps I work at Babies R Us, surrounded by pregnant women, and just praying (literally, to the gods of retail) to bring me two cute little adoptive fathers or, the best I've gotten so far, the lesbest friend of an expecting 30-something, and, sigh, her drop dead gorgeous life partner. There are no queers in Babies R Us. None that want to be there, anyway. There are far more moral and alt-friendly stores, and as many places as the gays can be these days, there's still places where we just aren't. And because I got this job while I was IN aforementioned relationship, one of those few places just happens to be where I am.
And here's the thing, here's the thing. It's just... I... I like girls with long hair, long legs, soft voices, chapsticked lips. I like girls who smell like some kinda tropical something-or-other, who paint their toenails (NOT their fingernails...I mean, really that would not work) and who obsess about hair products in a completely incomprehensible way. But at the same time, I like girls who can install light fixtures, heave a bike over their shoulders and climb the subway stairs, throw me up against a wall and make me sit funny the next day. I think... I think the confusing thing is the desire for duality within unity. I want someone who is completely different from me (for example, I do not paint my toenails, will never smell tropical and really, I could use 2-in-1 no name dandruff shampoo for the rest of my life and not notice) and yet miraculously the same (for example, I could toss you up against the wall and make you sit funny the next day, after we'd biked 30k across the city and eaten nothing but jamaican patties and banana cake). THAT....that is something gaydar can't see.
How are people ever happy, really? How do people find each other in this sea?
This was supposed to be a funny banter thing. It turned into a universal question.
Where is the right person? Is there one? How long will I stay lonely?
----------------
Now playing: James Brown - There Was a Time
via FoxyTunes
Since I was in high school, it's been kind of "in" to be bi. Kind of. Now, like some sort of chihuahua infestation, like some hail storm of kolor sunglasses, seems like every straight girl's gone gaga for the girls.
So.
What do we, the genuinely queer, do with this information?
It's dangerous waters, to be sure. All of a sudden, we're not safe to stare at that girl in the subway. All of a sudden... they're aware that we're looking, because, just out of curiosity, just in style, they're looking, too.
Now. I'm not one for us/them lingo. Seriously. I'm not. But I hate to say it, they're them. And you know who they are because you, being one of us, have a little thing called Gaydar. It's a damn useful skill, but now it's become even more vital.
I used to explain gaydar to my heterofriends as a sort of mere observational skill. I told them that all I did was "look at them looking, to see where they looked." But in times like these, if you want to prevent being a mere experiment, if you don't want to end up tossed aside like all those small curly-haired dogs and aviator sunglasses and socklike winter boots, one needs must tone the gaydar muscles.
Gaydar is not just about looking for looking. Gaydar is a whole body language. Gaydar is nails, hair, shoes, yes, but in the city, diversified and professional dykes are rampant! One can't just hope for converse and olive canvas. Besides, diversified and professional lesbians like ourselves might just not dig the hungry artsy student lezzer look. With increasing visibility, we've come out of the closet for a second time. Before, we married asexual men. Then we dressed like men. Then we dressed like the two queer characters on tv. In every sense we took a step towards being seen and tolerated and accepted. Now, it's such that we are expected at every street corner. Our businesses and schools use "partner" and read stories about "alternative families." This is all good news. Great news, really.
But, to be quite honest, it makes each other harder to find.
There was a time (HAH, as James Brown would say) when I was entirely willing to be the tested waters of youthful sexuasion. There was a time when I practically defined the territory. Hell, I was THE lesbian in my high school. Hell knows I had my fun with that. And with every girl who got a sense of freedom, with every girl who knew her body better for having been with me, I felt like some kinda superhero liberator. But now I'm here, 22, having just got out of a 2 year relationship with yet another woman who thought, maybe, yeah....but no.
There was a time when experimentation was both fun, interesting and admirable. But now. Now I know what I want. And I want somebody who knows what they want, too.
So. To the gaydarmobile, batmullet! Surely I've still got it. Right? It's just like riding a bike! Right?
But it's not. I've lost it, folks. The L Word and my past experiences have me practicing approach-avoidance like a kid scared of dogs. And it helps I work at Babies R Us, surrounded by pregnant women, and just praying (literally, to the gods of retail) to bring me two cute little adoptive fathers or, the best I've gotten so far, the lesbest friend of an expecting 30-something, and, sigh, her drop dead gorgeous life partner. There are no queers in Babies R Us. None that want to be there, anyway. There are far more moral and alt-friendly stores, and as many places as the gays can be these days, there's still places where we just aren't. And because I got this job while I was IN aforementioned relationship, one of those few places just happens to be where I am.
And here's the thing, here's the thing. It's just... I... I like girls with long hair, long legs, soft voices, chapsticked lips. I like girls who smell like some kinda tropical something-or-other, who paint their toenails (NOT their fingernails...I mean, really that would not work) and who obsess about hair products in a completely incomprehensible way. But at the same time, I like girls who can install light fixtures, heave a bike over their shoulders and climb the subway stairs, throw me up against a wall and make me sit funny the next day. I think... I think the confusing thing is the desire for duality within unity. I want someone who is completely different from me (for example, I do not paint my toenails, will never smell tropical and really, I could use 2-in-1 no name dandruff shampoo for the rest of my life and not notice) and yet miraculously the same (for example, I could toss you up against the wall and make you sit funny the next day, after we'd biked 30k across the city and eaten nothing but jamaican patties and banana cake). THAT....that is something gaydar can't see.
How are people ever happy, really? How do people find each other in this sea?
This was supposed to be a funny banter thing. It turned into a universal question.
Where is the right person? Is there one? How long will I stay lonely?
----------------
Now playing: James Brown - There Was a Time
via FoxyTunes
Tuesday
the kinda girl i want
it helps, really. to write lists of this nature, one must take stock of one's life, one's values, and one's future dreams. so here it goes.
the kinda girl i want needs an infectious, sudden laugh.
she needs to be light-hearted and easy-going. but always on the go.
the kinda girl i want believes in equality.
she hates gender, but loves a good set of heels.
she shaves when she feels like it, and she doesn't when she doesn't.
she performs for no one.
the kinda girl i want has a vocabulary that she adds to regularly and recreationally.
she has a love-hate relationship with reading, and an obsessive personality.
the kinda girl i want will be able to keep plants alive, because i cannot, and i like plants.
she'll cook when she feels like it, but it'll be achingly good when she does.
this girl will love her body without having other people's eyes tell her why.
she'll want to excel in everything she does.
the kinda girl i want will have an odd assortment of skills, and she'll be more mature than her years. she'll soften the more i know her, she'll cry at movies, and she'll yell at the news as if her voice alone could change the course of the world's events.
the kinda girl i want will take to the streets when she believes in something, which will be often. she'll be able to list her top five artists of all time, and she won't be able to decide on her favourite colour or her favourite musician. she'll be equally at home at the opera and on a hiking trail. she'll collect strange small things, and she'll be shy about her quirkiness.
the kinda girl i want will be the talker of the two of us, but when she listens, she'll remember every word.
the kinda girl i want may be too good for me right now. on the other hand, the kinda girl i want might be looking for a girl kinda like me. a bit rough around the edges, tense sometimes and sad. maybe this girl's looking for a girl who cries at the olympics and snorts at the news. a girl who wants to play every instrument, but can't afford that right now. a girl who fantasizes about being a superhero, using this dream as a reason to run faster, to do sit-ups, and to eat well. maybe she's looking for a girl who knows there's one person out there who will make the world seem small, a girl who likes quirky wallclocks and plastic jesus figurines and wants to collect art her friends have made on her walls. maybe she wants a girl who picks her nose unashamedly in front of anyone she's known for more than 5 months. a girl who doesn't really know who she is, but only thinks about that when she's supposed to be writing papers.
maybe this moment right now is the moment before the day before the week before the month we meet and the world makes perfect sense. maybe i'm a hopeless romantic, and nothing happens for a reason. maybe successful relationships are only either a product of dumb luck or endless scheming. regardless, i'll toss this thought into the electronic void.
the kinda girl i want needs an infectious, sudden laugh.
she needs to be light-hearted and easy-going. but always on the go.
the kinda girl i want believes in equality.
she hates gender, but loves a good set of heels.
she shaves when she feels like it, and she doesn't when she doesn't.
she performs for no one.
the kinda girl i want has a vocabulary that she adds to regularly and recreationally.
she has a love-hate relationship with reading, and an obsessive personality.
the kinda girl i want will be able to keep plants alive, because i cannot, and i like plants.
she'll cook when she feels like it, but it'll be achingly good when she does.
this girl will love her body without having other people's eyes tell her why.
she'll want to excel in everything she does.
the kinda girl i want will have an odd assortment of skills, and she'll be more mature than her years. she'll soften the more i know her, she'll cry at movies, and she'll yell at the news as if her voice alone could change the course of the world's events.
the kinda girl i want will take to the streets when she believes in something, which will be often. she'll be able to list her top five artists of all time, and she won't be able to decide on her favourite colour or her favourite musician. she'll be equally at home at the opera and on a hiking trail. she'll collect strange small things, and she'll be shy about her quirkiness.
the kinda girl i want will be the talker of the two of us, but when she listens, she'll remember every word.
the kinda girl i want may be too good for me right now. on the other hand, the kinda girl i want might be looking for a girl kinda like me. a bit rough around the edges, tense sometimes and sad. maybe this girl's looking for a girl who cries at the olympics and snorts at the news. a girl who wants to play every instrument, but can't afford that right now. a girl who fantasizes about being a superhero, using this dream as a reason to run faster, to do sit-ups, and to eat well. maybe she's looking for a girl who knows there's one person out there who will make the world seem small, a girl who likes quirky wallclocks and plastic jesus figurines and wants to collect art her friends have made on her walls. maybe she wants a girl who picks her nose unashamedly in front of anyone she's known for more than 5 months. a girl who doesn't really know who she is, but only thinks about that when she's supposed to be writing papers.
maybe this moment right now is the moment before the day before the week before the month we meet and the world makes perfect sense. maybe i'm a hopeless romantic, and nothing happens for a reason. maybe successful relationships are only either a product of dumb luck or endless scheming. regardless, i'll toss this thought into the electronic void.
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