Thank God

OK. So, in a relieving (yet disturbing) conversation, it was disclosed to me that the ExBoyf and I never actually left his place, which elegantly explains my memory gap. I now feel shamed but not confused. I'm moving up, peeps.

Thresholds

Last night I saw the ExBoyf for the first time in a while. I missed him and wanted to catch up, blah, blah. We met at his place, went out and returned to his hovel afterward. As far as I can recall, nothing traumatic happened...

...BUT THAT MEANS NOTHING BECAUSE I HAVE NO MEMORY OF THE EVENING.

I have been trying to remember where we went all morning and I can't. I have memories of the before and after but I seriously have zero idea where we were or what we did in between. Yes, I drank... quite a bit. Regardless, this lapse is not normal. I have tried to recall the venue for over three hours (!) and I really am clueless. We could have been on Uranus (you wish) or we could have gone to his local or we could have been on Queen Street. I have no idea. I think this black-out type event is related to the fact that I was nervous, had drinks, didn't eat and haven't slept properly... or because I'm a fat gay Greek-Canadian nerd that's into self-inflicting ridiculous problems. Whatever the cause, this is clearly not normal. WHERE WAS I? How astoundingly dumb does that question even sound?

Oh my gross... just to recap... I don't know where my own body was for a two hour period of time last night. Eww.

I remember going out and I vaguely remember smoking indoors, so it must have been a smoking room somewhere. But we didn't eat dinner together... Did we even leave his place?

This is fucking embarrassing... Do I ask him for clarification? I feel like a human garbage bag right now. The worst part is that I know that he is not having this "confusion". What a bitch. And I'm still feeling drunk, by the way. Glamorous, non? Fuck.

I have a dream...

I had a series of disturbing/hilarious dreams last night. One of them involved a dog pissing all over my friend's basement, resulting in much anger on my friend's part. Another was about a low-budget film I was making and as director, was having incredible problems trying to get my actors in line. So much so, that seeing them do the scene over and over again made me absolutely sick of the script and the whole endeavour. Yet another dream had me lying in a bed beside a bed which held the ExBoyf. I tried to shift my body to face him while he was speaking to me, but a variety of strange items on my bed held me back and prevented me from moving, so the boyfriend came to my bedside instead. Have my dreams become that symbolically obvious? How boring! Freud would slap me.

This brought to mind that my dreams are often quite realistic, lacking the talking unicorns or incongruous settings many others have. My dreams are also very narrative with a discernable beginning, middle and (usually) end. This was most dramatically exemplified by a dream I had which incorporated silent-film interstitial titles for each scene, along with 'The End'.

I think I'm due for some surrealism right about now.

There should be a Degrassi Museum

As I had mentioned in a previous post, the time between Christmas and New Years is total boredom for me. Therefore, I have little to say and little inspires me.

Well, actually, I checked out the new ROM galleries yesterday and they were fantastic. It made look forward very much for the completion of the renovation. The only annoying thing was that they decided that they are going to switch up some of the displays and so, many of them were not yet labeled. However, that was a minor complaint compared to the serious improvements to the museum itself. It is much more friendly, attractive and impressive than ever.

Now I'm bored again.

I was watching Degrassi High today and I was reminded about the crush I had on Scott, Kathleen's abusive boyfriend. I also realized that I still wouldn't kick him out of bed. I've got to calm down with the bad boy fetish sometimes...

I'm barfing gingerbread, eggnog and fruit cake in my head already

Ew.

By January 2nd, I fully expect an Academy Award delivered to my house to honour me for my acting skills over the next few days. I've resolved to be nice and attentive to the extended family this year, just to see how far their stupidity and boredom will go when left unabated. It should be interesting... if interesting means ludicrously tedious.

Apart from that, I am looking forward to the Christmas food thing as my mother is astoundingly good in the kitchen. Plus, I can whip up some faboo gnocchi for the fam. It's the only thing I've mastered enough to expose people to.

And let's face it, I'm looking forward to the presents. As L'Oréal has taught me "I'm worth it".

So, Happy Holidays to all... and I hope 2006 is a great year for all of you.

Zamboola, my love...

Hey honey... I'm sorry that everyone seems to think that you are Sausage and vice-versa. You are your own person. I'm not sure why this confusion persists. I love you. We should do something over the holidays...

Festive Moment

These are some pics I took at the Kensington Market Festival of Lights, a solsitce/holiday/anti-winter celebration that was on last night. My camera does not like the night, so the pics didn't turn out quite as I had hoped.

I love communal events and especially ones where drumming is involved. There was a surplus of hotties that helped to keep my groin toasty. It was also nice to be at a public event that wasn't bombarding me with ads and clever corporate slogans.

Ironically, Olivia Chow was there (see post below) and thrust the head of her horse costume into my ass several times... Is she jealous of my crush on her hubby? Does she read this blog and know my identity? Are CSIS and the NDP in cahoots? I have so many questions, Olivia... E-mail me.

Election Question

Has this election campaign seemed particularly dull? I'm guessing that some kind excitement will begin in earnest once the holidays are over.

It is depressing and frustrating that there is such a lack of inspired vision at the moment. It's as if nothing seems possible at all. And the motivation of voting a certain way to keep Harper out is getting banal, but my riding has swung in the past. Not the fun way.

There's a Greek expression that sums up my feelings towards Harper and Martin which may not translate well, but it's something like "grab the one and use him to hit the other". No, it didn't translate well but you get the point.

I think I want to hump Jack Layton but there is no way Olivia can watch, sorry.

[A] Cruel [B] Kind [C] Neither

A few years ago, I was out with a group of friends. It was mid-winter and we were very drunk. We stopped at a Rabba where an array of sparklers caught my eye. Of course, we bought them along with those Moore cigarettes that are a metre long.

Outside of the Rabba was a homeless man. I decided it would be really cool for us to sit by him, light the sparklers and sing Happy Birthday to him, which we did. We startled him out of his sleep and I think the sparklers freaked him out a bit, but by the end of the song, he seemed happy. Mind you, he fell back asleep within maybe 10 seconds.

I still can't decide why we did that and if it was nice or not.

I'm in gay-rights activist mode

This article about Bareback Mountain from Charles Karel Bouley II in The Advocate resonated with me today. Here's an excerpt:

Seems Hollywood is full of more cowards than heroes. So yes, kudos to Jake and Heath and Ang. But let’s get to a point where we can talk about the movie itself, not the sexuality of the characters playing the roles, as Jake and Heath have been trying to do. And let’s also get to a point where playing a gay person is not more courageous than playing a child molester or murdering mob boss.

And to all you straight actors who want pats on the back for playing gay: Until you’ve lived gay, until you’ve been denied a job because of it, or had to hide in a Hollywood closet; until you’ve had your jaw smashed or watched a generation of your friends die of a disease while government did nothing (like in the Reagan era), don’t speak to me of courage.

It takes courage to be gay and out, not to play it.

Threw y'all off

PD-D and Zamboola, I meant uncle in a non blood-related way. Hormonster is a very good friend and co-worker. For future reference, PAY ATTENTION TO THE ALIASES USED. If you insist on ignoriong me, you will have inaccurate information about my fascinating life... and who would want that? And Tenis will always be Tenis... it's too good to let go.

In other news, I saw the ExBoyf on Sunday. It was fine. We're not full-on together and doubt we ever will be again... that was my choice. However, we are also not feeling hateration for each other. All in all, pretty much how I wanted things to end up. We'll see what the future holds.

I'm feeling the Chistmas stress hard-core today.

YAY!!

The dazzling Hormonster had a baby girl on Saturday!!! I'm an uncle!!!

Now I'm jealous cuz I wish Hormonster was my mom.

Freudian slips

I really have to stop accidentally calling 'Brokeback Mountain' 'Bareback Mountain'. It's not nice.

Disaster porn?

Not sure about this.

This also brings to mind our apparent collective short-term memory. We were bombarded with Katrina coverage for a couple of weeks, but I can't really remember the last time I - or anyone around me - thought of New Orleans. Perhaps I and my circle are jerks?

The new da Vinci code

You'll all be happy to know that a computer has decided that (the) Mona Lisa is:

83% happy
9% disgusted
6% fearful
2% angry

Read about it here.

Now, I wonder how I would measure up at the moment...

Boring (except to me) Ex-Boyf Update

He sent another e-mail and a voicemail. I told him I'd contact him in some form on Friday... I need time to think. And strategize, for as Pat Benetar wisely taught us, love is a battlefield.

Annoyed/Confused

I got a very random, dumb and brief e-mail from the ExBoyf today, saying nothing really at all. Just when I was starting to feel comfortable with the idea of our separation, he goes and does this. Not sure what to do... Do I respond? Do I not respond? Do I type him a letter in braile and mail it to him? Do I send smoke-signals to a neighbouring tribe to plan an attack on his house? Do I start forging Chagalls and selling them to nouveau riche Russians? The options are endless...

Photo of the Day

I think this speaks for itself... You may want to click to enlarge to get the full effect of his facial expression. I hope the security forces didn't kill him... we need people like him.

Hold the phone

I was waiting on hold for an inordinate amount of time today and just when I was about to hang up, 'Let the Music Play' by Shannon came on. A classic if there ever was one. I was no longer bothered waiting for Tammi to take my call.

I'm superficial

I'm such a sucker for attractive packaging. Penguin Books has released a new series called "Great Ideas" which features essays by several historically important thinkers (as decided by Penguin editors). I bought the Camus edition yesterday and although I am interested in reading it,, I also got it because the cover was really nice. So, thank you Penguin for satisfying my intellectual and aesthetic sides. Clever marketing ploy. Oh, and thank you for the imminent gaggle of pseudo-intellectual fashionistas who will suddenly start spouting "profound" bullshit all over the place. As long as people's horizons are broadened, I'm all for it.

NYTimes, you have been forgiven

I forgive the NY Times for their ridiculously gross article about Broken Social Scene because they ran an article about 'Final Fantasy' in yesterday's edition. I heart Final Fantasy and become happy when deserving people are given recognition. Yay.

Recco

I've put aside the indie bands for a little break and have been listening to quite a bit of house/electro. If you enjoyed Daft Punk's 'Homework' album back in the day (I'm so street!), then by all means, check out Vitalic. I may be a late-comer to this one, but it's kind of like an updated Homework. Très good. I'm desk-dancing at the 'mo.

I'm no Grinch, but...

Today was the first day that I realized that the annual festivities ostensibly marking Jesus' birth are around the corner. And as the calendar dictates, this will soon be followed by a celebration ushering in a new year.

I hate this time of year.

Christmas doesn't give me warm, fuzzy feelings deep in my bowels. I find it stressful and annoying and I resent the interruption in my daily life- bars are randomly closed, shopping is impossible, etc. New Years is a nightmare... all the nerds of the world decide to lose all inhibitions and "party" like lemmings. The time in between these two disasters is the worst case of predictable life-limbo, a dead time when nothing really happens.

What I hate the most about the end of December is the relentless sense of obligation relating to these two events... the co-ordinating of people and stressing about doing things you don't really want to do and seeing people that make you ill... the forced emotions (ie: on New Years- in 10 seconds, I'm going to be randomly ecstatic!)... the cost... I could go on. Plus, the 8,000 misty-lensed network 'Holiday Wishes' promos make me want to convert to Islam.

I'm not good at faking emotions or randomly generating them. Regardless, I think that this year, I will be very happy to see 2005 off. Maybe that will make a difference.

Genet's Cruelty

I just had a very small ripple of guilt about a comment I made to my sister Tenis a while back. She was being mildly bitchy and I retorted with...

"Let me see something?"
I look at her backside
"Wow... I didn't realize that you could get pregnant and carry a baby in your ass."

Sorry, Tenis.

Now Magazine... Shut Up

Now Magazine can often be useful and includes the random interesting article. Their music reviews are usually hopeless, but the main problem is that it tends to get so preoccupied with political correctness and nouveau leftism that it comes off like a Women Studies student with a brain tumor. Case in point, this little gem of a headline:

Tired of waking up tired?
Shake that sleepy feeling with a few sun salutations and a shaman

FUCK OFF

OH MY GOD.

For reasons unknown, we are not allowed to control the temperature in our office and rely on a very stupid man to do it for us. It is currently 29 degrees (that's 84 F). I'm wearing a turtleneck. I'm totally homicidal and that fucking twerp better do something before I throw him in a garbage bag. When I said I wanted to be a bonobo, I didn't expect the fucking jungle to move into the office with me.

Vocal Masturbation Wins Again

Yesterday, I did a high kick and glamorously ripped the crotch right out of my pants. My ball fell out.

In other news, Arcade Fire is up for the Best Alternative Grammy. Too bad the Grammy's are gross... par exemple, Mariah Carey is up for Album of the Year. What's next for Mariah...? A Nobel?

Cryptic Fun

When speaking to someone, try the following when asked for advice...

In a normal tone
"Well, if I were you..."
Slight pause
Adopt menacing monotone and stare directly into their eyes
"... and I am"
Continue in a normal tone.

Trust me, they will be confused and disturbed. Pretend nothing happened.

We should all de-evolve

The bonobo is the best animal ever. Forget dinosaurs, penguins or giraffes (especially forget giraffes). The bonobo is the hippy/rockstar of the animal kingdom and I am jealous of them. They are our closest relative, so perhaps I can will myself into regressing...

Why do I love them so? If they have a conflict, they fuck. If they are stressed, they fuck. If they are bored, they fuck. And they'll fuck anything, anywhere. Plus, they french kiss and look into each others eyes... How fun and peaceful is that?!

And they are pretty egalitarian in respect to gender.

There is an eccentric (yet potentially creepy) lady who urges us humans to "liberate our inner bonobo" and I couldn't agree more. She has a website for more information.

Now, let's fuck... or at least smile at each other.

I somewhat agree

Ah, gentrification, you scary thing, you... What I always loved about the ever shifting fringes of Queen West was its grit and randomness. The ubiquitous symbol of mallification in the guise of "sophistilatté© lifestyle facilitator" - Starfucks- has arrived and whatever could that mean? The truth is, if it bothers the 'hood enough, they could always go to one of the many independent coffee purveyors around. However, it still is a depressing sight to behold. Seattle, you gave us grunge, Bill Gates and Starbucks. Grunge had one or two worthy moments, but really, Billy and the Bucks can fall into the Pacific now.

Blaming the Drake, though? That's a tough call... I don't think the owners intended it to be an obnoxious meat-market filled with suburbanites living out their "New York" fantasy on the weekends. Then again, the Drake does veer a bit too close to the lifestyle concept that so annoys the fuck out of me. Come here and presto, you are interesting, urban and suddenly cultured! Can't deny it's a beautiful space, though, and it does serve a unique purpose.

For the most part, I'll stick to the Gladstone. But the graffititi above is pretty funny.

Depeche Mode, Sade and Silence

The Depeche Mode concert was a cathartic experience in an almost embarassing way. They aren't the most profound lyricists around, but there is no denying the force of 20,000 people screaming along to 'Somebody' when that was the ultimate lovesong for a 13 year old Anglophilic melodramatic fag such as myself. I kept yelping my phone number and address, but they never showed up chez moi... Martin Gore was wearing an awesome chicken-angel-mohawk hat that I loved. And to anyone who thinks that they are a poncy synth band, the truth is that they are more harsh and abrasive live than most guitar bands... so shut up. I got such chills during 'Enjoy the Silence' that my pubes have lost all their curl and bounce- forever.

Before the show, JR, Juk and myself had a drink. JR and I developed an elaborate story about Sade... I'll refer you to his post because it's too convoluted for me to relate right now and I'm tired.

Juk leaves in a bit, which is a bummer. I wish I had been less emotionally affected by current circumstances during his visit, but I know he understands. This is why Juk and I are friends after all these years. It is also such a comfortable friendship that when he visits, it feels like he's never left and that his being here is absolutely normal... he needs to move here.

I wish I had something witty to write, but I'm not in the mood. Give me a couple of days and I'll make you shit yourself laughing.