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Dreampepper
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| Other places I live: flickr :::::: facebook :::::: twitter :::::: jesus monkey pants in space :::::: sinister bedfellows: an anthology |
June 2009
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Currently I'm in Seattle, tapping away in our new Capital Hill apartment while a nice university student scrubs out the kitchen cupboards for me so I can finally start unpacking. The last few days have been a tangled, righteous haze of putting things into boxes, putting boxes into boxes, sorting boxes, stacking boxes, boxes, boxes, boxes. Tony had barely made a dent in the work by the time I arrived on Friday night, so it was a swoop in and dash rescue, all hauling things around and making space for the hired Saturday movers, (who were accidentally paid twice), working hard until I couldn't anymore then getting up and doing it all over again. Taking time to just sit for awhile feels like a gift. Yesterday should have been my first day to rest, but there was painting to arrange and cleaning and furniture and figuring out what boxes go where and what's in them and boxes, boxes, boxes. (And as I type this, he's finished.) Not to say we haven't been having fun. Other things have been happening, lovely brief respites of love: Willow had us over for a social Sunday morning of waffles at her place with some friends a couple blocks away, and Rafael and Michelle came over yesterday to help me fetch a free Craigslist Queen mattress from up the street, followed by Alex, fresh off the plane from SF, who brought his second Tactical Corset prototype for us to play with, (which fit a charm, let me tell you), and we all went for a nice dinner at the Blue Bistro and a chummy midnight tour of Hackerbot. Today we're back to boxes. Tony is working from home, which is nice, and tonight, after errands and chores and we've exhausted our usefulness, we're going to an Emilie Simon concert. Tomorrow we fly for SF. Tags: moving, seattle, travel Current Music: pandora.com: susumu yokota - blue sky & yellow sunflower |
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I picked up my passport today. The pretty young man behind the counter had a chocolate coin festively tied around his neck with shining pink-yellow ribbon. When I asked about it, he explained he'd won an award in the office today, then slyly showed me a glimpse of a rather official looking document that stated OFFICE CLOWN. "That's a good thing to win for," I said. "The best," he replied, "sign here." And that was it. Everything's done. I can now legally leave the country. Current travel dates Vancouver to Calgary, June 19th - Calgary to Vancouver, June 22st Vancouver to Seattle, June 26th Seattle to San Fransisco, July 1st - San Fransisco to Seattle, July 6th Seattle to Vancouver, July 6/7th Tags: canadiana, san fransisco, seattle, travel Current Music: the troggs - with a girl like you |
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From Mike: If you have loved ones in Iran, my thoughts are with you and yours. I've been stuck to the Twitter feeds for a while now, and I'm worried for people. But I'm also encouraged. Tactics like the Iranian government's would have worked just fine 20 years ago. (Chile comes to mind.) Locking down the networks and cutting off the professional journalists would have had the effect that they intend - without the world watching, the worst of the protestors could be dealt with ruthlessly, and the rest intimidated into submission. But not now. Using one pesky little network protocol, the people on the ground in this insurgency have managed to circumvent the information wall, and force their way into the public eye. The government's response now will have to be carefully measured against this unprecedented new level of visibility. They will have to quell the protests peacefully somehow, or else they'll have to resort to acts of mass violence on YouTube. (note: Violence has already happened in many places.) If you want to chip in your network resources for this underground news conduit, they could sure use your help. All the major IM networks are now blocked for Iranian users, as well as services like Blogger and Twitter. Getting news, photos and footage out through this network is risky business for the people providing them, and there is a frantic cat-and-mouse proxy server game going on between the censors and the bloggers. You can put your own machine to work in this infowar, and better their chances of evading capture. First, rock a Twitter account, and make it look Iranian. GMT+3:30. (Think, 'I'm Spartacus.') Cruise over here and learn how to set up a proxy server on your machine. Once you've done that, DO NOT TWEET ABOUT IT IN PUBLIC. The censors are watching Twitter closely, and the moment they see someone post a new proxy for Iran, it goes on the block list and becomes useless. Instead, send it privately to @stopAhmadi or @iran09 and they'll distribute it discreetly to bloggers. This is the first time that tools like this have been used on this scale. Here's hoping that Twitter can give us a new and ubiquitous form of political accountability. All eyes are on Ahmadinejad, and I sure hope he can feel them. |
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I tie our hair together in looping knots, gold twined with red and purple, my hair wrapped in his like set gemstones. We match our garnet earrings, I think, we match and are beautiful, here in this place, this tent of our tangled hair, in this moment where we've erased the entire world but ourselves. I think of the violence in Iran, the students shot for protesting, the plain clothes agitators hired by the police state to enact violence in the name of the wronged, and I am especially glad for this small green hill, our hair braided together, our eyes shining together like light. Such perspective is deeply important to me. There are no fires here, no government shootings, no rigged elections for despots. We are not threatened here in Canada, the country we've made of a million languages, stronger together, we are safe here, and no matter how complex or stressful our lives might be, we will not die from politics. We are not persecuted and can help those that are. How to fight from afar: seemingly levelheaded advice on aiding the protests online #iranelection via Eliza #iranelection cyberwar guide for beginners Tags: activism, love, police, politics |
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We began with Craigslist ads, scanning through pages of apartments that offered beautiful views in inconvenient neighborhoods or move in bonus televisions instead of laundry rooms, weeding them down until we had four likely candidates, two of which called us back to view. The first building felt like a horror movie set. Wide, dark hallways lined in red, with wavy leaded windows on the stairs occasionally missing a pane of glass. The building manager was a young man, passably nice, slightly more sleazy than eager, who in another situation I might have liked, but in this time and place felt like a liar. The apartments we were shown were much the same. Old, antique, almost pretty, with hardwood floors, high ceilings, and wide, open windows, great to visit, but not to live in, even the newly renovated ones. The kitchens were cramped hallways thin as the galley of a small sailing ship, with washrooms much the same, but more awkward, and the entire building slanted as if entire rooms had bumped their heads and never quite recovered. The word charming was thrown around, as was quaint. It was a relief to leave it behind. Our second building, thankfully, was not so disheartening an experience. As buildings go, it was merely uninteresting. The outside looked promising, a great red brick edifice shaped like a castle, and the hallways were nice, as befit its history as a posh art deco hotel, but the room itself was less than inspiring. We were more concerned with the shaky emotional state of the nice, young building manager whose grandmother was in the hospital than for the space she showed us, crooked, cramped, filled constantly the sound of the I5 louder than live music. When we left, we were glad we let her vent about her family, but also that we'd never be back. Capital Hill is currently bristling with APARTMENT FOR RENT signs, however, so we called and took reference photos of at least one building every block we passed on our way to lunch at the B&O, basing our choices on capricious things like garden friendliness or how much we liked the font of their signs. Though we'd been having a rough start, our mood was far from dire. Instead we were having fun, finding an unexpected delight in our arbitrary superficial judgments. Even better, they snagged us the perfect place. The phone rang over lunch, "We could come by in half an hour," we said. "Perfect," they replied, "Come on down." Our first good sign was the woman waiting for us outside, Penny, and our second was her amused reaction to our amused reaction to the "flesh" tone dildo tied to a pair of colour matched expensive leather boots hanging from a telephone wire just across the street. Smiling, competent, she seemed immediately our sort of person. As did the building once we were inside, a 1920's three story, with six or so apartments on every floor, even the foyer was gorgeous. Someone had come through and meticulously faux finished every wall to be a fancifuly distressed work of art. From then on in, it was all roses. The apartment itself was utterly lovely. Graceful, airy, well balanced, with wide, pretty windows, and incredible light. Describing it feels like trying to capture dance. Even cluttered with the detritus of someone else's life, it glowed with the possibilities of home. Tony put the deposit down on Thursday. We move in right after we get back from SF. Tags: apartment, seattle, tony Current Music: regina spektor - the calculation |
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I leave accidental trails of scarlet across the backs of my boys, red lines thinning pale into permanent fingerprint slashes of I was here, explicit, accidental, time travelling primal distraction, as old and new as the universe, stinging salty in the shower, an archaic, elemental writing sliced into flesh, coloured in with the body's most basic ink, traced by my fingers and the sullen edges of uncertain t-shirts, to bleed later, or ache again when leaned upon, a raw, gentle reminder of my skin and theirs pressing together. He likes them, he says, wry, "these are the scars that separate men from boys". He likes them, he says, purring, "this way I am never without you." Tags: lovers Current Music: v.a.s.t. - my tv and you |
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wake up, love wake up, love undress yourself from my skin put on the sun and let our dreaming rest come watch the world rise wake up, love and be unbalance on the edge with me of our sagging, remembering bed come slip on your shoes wake up, love and help me sort this tangle of belongings our thoughts half in day, half still in night come kiss me full of sustenance wake up, love and meet me at the opened door before the scent of you leaves my hands and hair come walk with me into this life by Tobin James Mueller |
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via jwz: Hybrid hearts could solve transplant shortage"It's amazing, absolutely beautiful," says Doris Taylor, describing the latest addition to an array of tiny thumping hearts that sit in her lab, hooked up to an artificial blood supply. The rat hearts beat just as if there were inside a live animal, but even more remarkable is how each one has been made: by coating the stripped-down "scaffolding" of one rat's heart with tissue grown from another rat's stem cells.Also: Stem cells used to restore sight The idea to team stem cells with contact lenses came from an observation that stem cells from the cornea stick to contact lenses. To obtain the stem cells, Dr Watson took less than a millimeter of tissue from the side of each patients' cornea. Working with colleagues at POWH and UNSW, he cultured stem cells from the tissue in extended wear contact lenses. |
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![]() My weekends out of town have pushed me out of the habit of writing. Potential words are constantly spilling from my mouth and mind, but not landing where they'll stain page or paper and stick around awhile and have a drink. Instead I find myself busy and busier, living a pace just this side of insane, and never in front of a computer when I need it most, but wrapped instead around chocolate curls and blonde exhaustion, tangled in too many things to set out straight. The best I can do is point form after-the-fact, small glimpses into moments that stuck, like snapshots taken from a moving car, anecdotes I tell over tea or as we walk, hands carving out the expressions in our bodies as we did this or that, laughter infectious, haltered to speech. Memories of the Mercury, wrapped in cigarette smoke and surrounded by black, dancing with Dee like the first time we really met, physical strangers in L.A., when he was still from London, and we had never lived in Montreal. Of Tony curled in my lap, days later, slightly drunk at Grahame and Becca's, explaining 'performing' as my partner in front of my mother at Gasworks park, "See my patience!" He says, "how clever and kind a teacher I am! How carefully I'm showing Nick how to spin these poi, how I'm responsible, understanding. Look how perfect I am for your daughter, because I'm AWESOME!" Of Folklife and music and Richard's music just for us, letting us play, the video we took, the glitchy, delightful beat. I think of Rafael dipping me in time to marimba music, all wrapped in tie-dye and a purple skirt, and Tony on the ground leaning forward to kiss me precisely on the lips, as if the entire moment had been perfectly rehearsed. I think of standing in front of the Circus Contraption audience, faking desire, shuddering with it, breaking my plastic glass with the heated deep breaths of my theatrical orgasm, ready to beat the band. The warmth and depth of my smile. Of flying my pocket Pirate kite, of limping gladly, of free hug signs and breakfast and pliers and giving a necklace away. Of sound effects and posed photographs and doing the tango with only my hand, two fingers for legs, stepping along the ground so prettily it was like we could see the invisible held-in-teeth roses glowing alive in our love. Tags: dee, love, people, seattle, tony |
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via Sean: ![]() Illustration by Roy Husada Vancouver Opera announces OPERABOT, an animation contest for our Golden Anniversary Season. Animators are challenged to create animated shorts of one of the four productions of the Golden Anniversary Season. Tags: animation, music, vancouver |
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Poll #1410487 The mayor has begun fidgeting with his sash Open to: All, detailed results viewable to: All Of these fearsome beasts, which strikes the most terror into the heart of men?
View Answers Moose? Velociraptor? Pirahnamoose? Velocimoose? Moosiraptor? |
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![]() foxtongue, a breath-taking birthday present from last year by my dear friend, Juan Santapau, mastermind, delight, and president for life of the perpetually beautiful The Secret Knots. To be put into immediate effect: birthday dinner this evening, meet at my place after seven pm. Tags: birthdays Current Music: max avery lichtenstein - tarnation |
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... and I wish you were here to remove the pins from my hair the same way I wish you were here to drown out your absence with your voice. With every pin, I remember the delicate sweep of your fingerprints, the wry look of your eyes laughing at my terrible jokes, and layer it into every moment we've said I love you and I miss you, when we've really meant come home, as if home were our flesh meeting instead of a place, our foreheads together, hands twined, all of ourselves an ornate, whimsical Escher arabesque spelling out contentment, where were you? or yes. Tags: love |
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An excerpt example of reason eight million five thousand and fourty three why I'm not-so-secretly sideways a little bit in love with my friend Kevin, who I am pleased to say I licked once on the side of the head: So we get to set early and Reel EFX are overseeing the first segment of the show (Fire vs. Ice) One kid on a snow maker and the other on a flame thrower doing the whole "Woo-Hoo Awesome!" thing. But the kid on the flamethrower keeps complaining that "Oh...It's HOT, It's HOT... And we're all thinking "Kid....you're 16 and you're getting to set off a flamethrower. No one bitches when you get to set off a flamethrower. Ever. It's a fundamental principle. There are 5 billion flamethrowerless children in the world who would trade spots with you this very second. Have some respect...." Tags: fire, kevin |
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![]() Kyle is one of the people in my life who has influenced me the most in the past year, encouraging me, picking up when I've fallen, and always inspiring me with his brilliant, infectious good nature, continually reminding me that the world is not always a fight, that to strive can be to succeed, and that sometimes everything really is all going to be alright. I've only met him once in person, (though it's in the game plan to do so again, and again, and as many times as I can), when he and Jennifer were in Seattle for a wedding, and it felt like a gift to be with them, not only to finally visit, but to witness their incredible and utter devotion, one of the most perfect things I have ever been blessed to see. They are beautiful together, enchantment multiplied, and the light that shines off them is blinding. It is my great and fervent desire to one day be so happy and I will forever adore them for leading the way, showing what it possible, and thriving. Congratulations you two, I wish you well and I love you, even from all the way over here. ![]() ![]() Tags: kyle, love, wedding, yes |
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Watching him through the partially closed balcony screen, he is beautiful, pensive, sitting with a cigarette, uncertain what he needs to say next. His gestures as he smokes are familiar, the slow, absent dance of the resigned to fate. (I am a comfortable witness.) In his head, he is silently writing a letter as he stares into space, turned inward, performing and rehearsing how to say goodbye. to my dear friends and family... He is new to this, but competent, and I expect him to survive. (In my memory a day not quite the one before, myself in a mirror, comforting, holding a man through almost similar things.) We fall asleep wrapped in the couch before the letter is sent, our heavy limbs a knot of courage as well as care, though his writing was finished by midnight, (a time significant only in passing, like a fallow attempt of a traditional childhood's magic spell), marking like a hammer blow one of the last indivisible links in this particular chore. Tags: divorce, seattle, tony |
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Current Music: robbie robertson & the red road ensemble - coyote dance |
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For your edification: a Conservapedia talk page on whether humor existed before Christ. Via David S. by way of Tags: you have to be kidding |
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![]() Jess Hill's costume party music video debut! "It’s true! As of yet there has been but a whisper in the wind of the coming of wonderful things. The magic people are busying themselves excitedly with the creation of an evening of dream and inspiration, song, poetry, burlesque, and decor. Minds, bodies, and spirits will then make a dream come true as we raise funds for the production of Jess Hill’s upcoming album: Orchard." doors at 8, show at 9. tickets $10 at the door. Lullabye's start at 9pm sharp. So don't be late. The night will feature la musique of Jess Hill, Tarran the Tailor, Maria in the Shower, CJ Leon, Chelsea Johnson, and Sneetch, burlesque performances by the fine feathered ladies in Booty Burlesque and the one and only Rad Juli, and mad poetics by The Svelte Ms. Spelte and RC Weslowski. The theme is dreamland so do please let your imagination dress you. After all anything goes, it's your dream. PERFORMERS: Jess Hill: Hauntingly beautiful, the shadow singing with her crows, the blond-haired, blue-eyed, guitar-riffing sweetheart of East Van, Jess Hill will be playing with her band The Dreams of All and Sundry featuring arrangements for strings by Aaron Joyce and electro-acoustic foley artist Lee Hutzulak. Tarran the Tailor: An enchanter of hearts, eyes, hips, and toes Tarran combines boombox and banjo to cast Cajun-style charms on his enraptured audiences. His organic beats seem a perfect fusion of musical technologies from the past, the future, and the land of East Van. Maria in the Shower: A fascinating troupe of soul-singing mimes! Their engaging performances mix theatre and cabaret, horn and voice, musicianship and character into an unforgettably ecstatic happening. CJ Leon: Clever as a crow with cadaver in his throat, CJ is bleaker and funnier than Hell with classical guitar accompaniment. Chelsea Johnson: Soulful and true, when she rocks the mic, the world rocks too. There will also be performances by the folk = fun act Sneetch, the hot and fiery Booty Burlesque, the naturally Rad Juli, the scarecrow prophet of East Van The Svelte Ms. Spelte, and surrealist poet and the current Vancouver Poetry Slam Champion RC Weslowski. Tags: events, friends, love, music, vancouver |
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Nicole was hit by lightning this week. Sarah is finally convacating with a Bachelors of Arts degree. Tracey has just become finally engaged to her Edward, and they're to be married in August. Tony brought me to see Circus Contraption last weekend and it was so beautiful as beautiful does that it shattered me into a better person. I cried, watching it, as the experience shook my heart in my chest. Horribly, painfully, (how could they), after eleven years of perfecting their incorrigible circus, they're shutting down at the end of May, so, as Tony said, "if you are in Seattle the next couple of weekends (or can be so) and have yet to see any Circus Contraption show (or have seen them before) then make every effort possible to see one of the last shows that this exquisite troupe will ever be doing." We're going again on the 23rd with as many people as we can. Dee, (in town from Montreal), is coming, as is Nick Eddy, and maybe Rafael. Are you? Please say yes. ps. I need need a place for my mum to stay in Seattle that weekend. Anyone have a spare couch/bed/room? Tags: circus, seattle Current Music: Gwen Stefani - Whatcha Waiting For (Orange Bounce Remix). |
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We're lying on the couch, grinding on the couch, when he says, finger to my lips, in an overly innocent voice that has no idea the incredible faux pas it's about to commit, "Now you be a good little girl and don't move. Just wait right here." I pause, distracted, jolted. "Excuse me?" His eyes widen as the multiple potential layers of his statement sink in, meanings rife with candy, white vans, and puppies. "Oh dear!" he says, "I promise that's not where I meant to go with that." We collapse laughing, the moment lost now in something else. We lie curled together, our hands lost in each other's hair, and I tell a story of being approached once by a young man in a nightclub who'd had one too many beer, "We'd been dancing, nothing special. We didn't know each other at all, but he came up to me in a pause in the music, drink in hand, smiling, and said, You know what I'd like? Of course I shook my head no. I didn't even know his name. If you came home with me so I can show you who your daddy is." Tags: hilarity, seattle, tony |
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I can't help but feel squidgy whenever I remember there are people in space! via Warren: Astronauts discover a long stretch of damage on the space shuttle Atlantis.The shuttle appears to be in good overall shape, but the survey did uncover a 53cm (21in) line of chips on the vehicle’s right side. The line of chips uncovered by the inspection are in thick tiles that make up the protective heat shield on Atlantis’ starboard side. The damage is located where the right wing joins the shuttle’s fuselage. Nasa said the chips could be related to a debris event detected by the wing’s leading edge sensors 104-106 seconds into the lift-off.This report leads to one of those surprising and uncomfortable truths about humanity’s current space travel skills:If something goes wrong on this mission, Atlantis’ crew will not be able to shelter on the International Space Station (ISS). The station orbits at around 350km (220 miles) above Earth, while Hubble occupies an orbit about 560km (350 miles) up.The Shuttle can’t fly there. It can’t shed 130 miles of altitude, establish a new orbit on a radically different inclination and maneuver to ISS. Because our things that fly in space still aren’t really spaceships as we’ve been brought up to think of them. In fact, the Endeavour’s on the launchpad now, ready to launch an unprecedented rescue mission if it’s determined that the Atlantis may not survive re-entry. Tags: science, space |
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He kisses me, and I thrill. "What about over there?" I ask, pointing at the tall stone cathedral across the street, "Those confessional things you were talking about, they have doors, right?" He looks at me, shocked, amused, and laughs. His body twists, he mimes my body on top of his in the cafe seat. "Oh", he says, panting, "Father," a gasp, "We're sinning!" |
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![]() Louisa May Alcott's Letter to Her Mother "Whatever beauty or poetry is to be found in my little book is owing to your interest in and encouragement of all my efforts from the first to the last; and if ever I do anything to be proud of, my greatest happiness will be that I can thank you for that, as I may do for all the good there is in me; and I shall be content to write if it gives you pleasure." Happy Mother's Day, Vicki and Silva. Thank you for all your love. Tags: mum, silva, vicki |
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If you’re in the Seattle area this evening, stop on by Starfish Studios to take a gander at the latest series from local artists Libby Bulloff and Angel Ceballos. Tags: art, friends, seattle Current Music: elbow - ribcage |
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![]() a musical bazaar of sorts with HUMANWINE, THE BLACKBIRD ORCHESTRA, NATHANIEL JOHNSTONE, TOY BOX TRIO, MEISCE, FINN VON CLARET, and DJ Q. "These are the times, my friends. And these are the days. Where the world becomes malleable, palpable. When novelty and genius are within our reach. We are cautioned against being passionate about these things by tales of progress turned to greed and of technology turning on us. And yet, the golden light is just right, the clocks are synchronizing, the stars are in alignment. Sunday, May 10, 2009 3 pm to 10 pm The Little Red Studio 750 Harrison Street, Seattle, WA ALL-AGES, $15 donation Wearables, craftables, and edibles provided by a plethora of local and regional artisans. (ex. Sock Dreams will be arriving from Portland to vend excellent foot/legwear.) We will take a dinner break (with DJ) at 6:30 pm - please bring your own sack meal, a picnic to share, or food can be acquired from two of our vendors. Vegan options available. Adult beverages can be purchased by 21+ individuals. Spread the word. All are welcome. [Another fine event brought to you by the incomparable Libby Bulloff and Willow Brugh.] Tags: concerts, events, friends, music, seattle |
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Electricty conductive body paint. Falling from the bus, pushed to my knees by a wave of car sick nausea, falling down to find him waiting, two roses in hand, one scarlet, one jade, waiting and in love, curiosity transformed over half a decade into smitten into smote, a slow walk, arms linked, step in step, finally a pair five years later than when we met, when I had taken him home. We had been dancing at the same place, a night club gone goth for a friend's industrial night, everyone in black, fishnets, and spikes. Somehow I convinced him to come with me for tea, (yes, actual non-euphimistic tea), curled on my couch, my cripple's cane leaning against my leg, his sardonic conversation leaning against my heart, as pleasantly dark as his pleated kilt and kinky, curly hair. In the morning, he had gone home, leaving behind only his name, an assemblage memory of a warm, witty smile and an e-mail address to which he only barely replied. After awhile of silence, I chalked it up to one of life's silly things, counting myself lucky having a hot boy over for tea, and that was that. Until it wasn't. We found each other again through Eliza, her paintings up at Anachrotechnofetishism luring him out and into my orbit again. Soon he was visiting, tangling back into my life, staying on my couch as we went to arts festivals, as I would stay on his on my way through Seattle, the both of us blazing. Eventually, more recently, it was silently decided we would try again where we left off, an arbitrary agreement with no forethought and no warning that coalesced out of air, a relationship wrought without words, twisted together from a few meaningful glances and a deep understanding of what needed to happen next. "You know I dreamed about you." Fast forward, I am pulled from a bus by the fury of my sickness, out and down, and out, having been on a bus for three hours, reading, waiting, wishing I could sleep, the sky on fire with yet another one of those perfect west coast afternoons, beautiful, boring, cliche as a painting, traveling unknown toward a moment for five years, feeling conscripted to the inevitable, as if slotting back into a path I never should have left, the parsed coastal combination of manipulated reasons I can lay out like cards. Curled around my belly, I am struck dumb on the sidewalk, a crumpled ball, but then I look up to see him, poised in sudden terror that I didn't get off the bus at all, and suddenly everything is okay. "Tony," I wave, and he turns, and his face is all I need to know. Tags: relationships, seattle, tony Current Music: the national - mistaken for strangers |
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