A sister piece to ‘Fall is for the Ultimate’
I wrote most of this around the end of April and I’ve been building on it since.
I’m already nostalgic for Spring now that Humid Summer is upon us (even my eyeballs feel sweaty!).
Spring is for the romance. Spring is for wanting (to have) someone to pet your hair, because just the feeling of the wind moving through it in the sun is enough to make you cry.
Spring is for wanting to eat burgers everyday, so you do.
Spring is for first encounters skipping handshakes and moving straight to hugs.
A Mile End landscape drawn on diner place mats. The reflection of rainbows that last nights top sends casting across the table and your bagel. Comparing the colors of your eyes and ending with, “well there’s so much here!”
Spring is for a new book for every sleepover. And for only ever reading the fist three pages of every one of them when I can’t sleep. And for borrowed books, fiction and otherwise, about sexuality.
Spring is for men saying to me, “I think you’ll really like this.”
(over breakfast and beers)
Spring is for friends who look like all of Tumblr at once, and up all night talking until 9am because whatever.
Spring is for, “Can I touch your scabs?” said romantically. She said, “You are quite literally an open wound.” Highly sensitive people discussing sensitivity and MDMA hangovers in sunrooms and over cigarettes. She said, “It sounds like you don’t need to do drugs, you can already feel it all.” I feel so much.
Spring is for skin theory, surface contemplation, sensory overload. And should I be a lab rat? And exactly how deep does my disease go? And how much of myself can I expose before vulnerability will be misinterpreted as performative.
Spring is for meet me in the rain would you like a cigarette?
Spring is for blueberry pancakes, when the sun feels dark, visiting the animal shelter for emotional therapy, and every Vitamin water tasting like, “are you hungover?”. Can I buy every shade of lace and plaid and blame my art?
Spring is for a fresh new notebook soon filled with sprawling letters written while kneeling in a gravel alley way. A notebook like a companion to remember the overflow. The overflow of living presently.
Spring is for school is over, seems like it’s someone’s birthday every other day, how many days can celebrations last before they become benders? Is there such a thing as a date bender? Can you overdose on feelings? Fall into a pit of romance, down down down the rabit hole only to find yourself lying in a park sharing a beer thinking, ‘Oh, I think I’d like to get used to this’.
Spring is for April feels like some sort of time joke, like no, I haven’t had enough of purgatory yet.
Spring is for a roommate asking what the poem you read was about and when you say, “being a girl”, her saying, “ahh” with a smirk because this topic seems to consume all of you and by extension all that you create.
Spring is for can everything be a photoshoot? Are you filming? Is this a vine? Am I on the internet already saying this? (and I haven’t even finished my sentence yet.)
Spring is for I can finally write this outside. And we can finally make out outside. And we are drinking wine and making out in the park. He said, “We are the people we would normally laugh at, but also feel happy for.”
We are spinning. Twirling around the poles on metro cars like this is a Jon Hughes movie and I’m sometimes scared it could be.
Spring is for he is in my bed again and he literally blends right in. And where does one naked hug end and the next begin. He said, “I wear lace shadows on my face just for you.” And I can’t keep my eyes open, and I can’t see you this up close, and are we talking about hamburgers or sex, actually? And in how many different contexts can that last question apply before it will feel like a city wide joke?
Spring is for the lipstick smudges over my tattoo gave me an idea for a painting.
Paint me your brain in watercolor. And I will send you my name in flowers since you like to say it so much. Spring is for you say so much, I wish I had a tape recorder at brunch. Spring is for brunch became a picnic and picnic became life. Sleepovers and goodbye parties trail from the park and back again for days on end.
Spring is for “Are you titillated?” Tittylated. Tittyland.
“You’re breasts are even nicer than mine.”
He said, “Are you actively into girls?” and she (the girl I like) said, “You and I will be wearing leather for very different reasons.”
Spring is for gender neutral pronoun politics making me self conscious. But only because I’m so relieved to be living in a sexually progressive city. He said, she said, they said. We are a galaxy. He (they?) said, “Madeleine, what if the galaxy really is reflected on your skin?”
Spring is for NO PARENTS. And this means sex in the kitchen. And texts saying, “Your kitchen is an erogenous zone.” And I’m, beginning to wonder what’s not. And your hip fits perfectly in my hand like side of a pin ball machine. And I want to play you like a win win situation.
Spring is for having erotic passages about pinball read to you in the park.
Spring is for the rain giving me mermaid hair. And for mermaids giving me hope. And for mermaids who smoke like 1950’s movie stars to match their haircuts.
Spring is for this threesome or that one?
Spring is for this city is smarter than people give it credit for. Not just a pretty place, not just a La Bohemian lifestyle. This city brings personality to knowledge, and it brings people together in living rooms where we gladly share beer and poems and are kind to each other even when we’ve been sleeping with each others lovers. Imagine that.
Imagine a place where I have not been home yet.
Spring is for if you see me out in the world somewhere before 7pm imagine that I haven’t been home yet. But also imagine that there’s a 30% chance I’m just earnestly up at a decent hour and probably trying to be productive or find coffee or round up a picnic.
Spring is for do I have a cold because:
(1) I kissed someone with one
(2) rolled around the city all night wearing something sheer
(3) put substances up my nose
or (4) all of the above.
Spring is for I hate to admit that I kind of judge people based on their nail polish color.
Spring is for at this rate everybody could be married by the weekend.
Spring is for there was a moment this morning where I forgot how to write so I wrote this instead.
Spring is for group writing parties. And fact sharing. And cross pollination between disciplines to procrastinate the morning away. And caesars at 8am when you haven’t been to bed yet because maybe this will bribe the essay outa me?
Spring is a place where one lover is saying to me about another lover, “For someone who falls in love so often, I just don’t understand people who make such a big deal about it, just be nice to each other.” while I’m making a big deal about it.
Spring is for we can hear you fucking while we say our awkward, lingering, tension filled goodbyes.
He cut all of their faces out and filled them with light. And I left my eyes blank because I’m unsure of what I see. And my prof considered this unfinished but I consider it self aware (optimistic).
Spring is for I have been taking pictures of my reflection reflected onto other surfaces for months, and then I met a boy carrying around a gigantic sheet of a reflective surface all day. And he said, “Oh you and I, Madeleine Black, we’re going to be great friends.”
Spring is for can you choke me and he said, “Gladly”.
Spring is for sexy socks. And friends running into my bedroom screaming, “Maddy! I feel like you’re the expert on boys!??” only to find me in bed with a girl. Spring is for booty calls have dress codes and hers was black socks, which she didn’t have and I gave her. Mine has become no makeup, and sadly that is actually something I have reason to feel proud of myself for.
Spring is for all I can think about is skin. And so I pulled it all off, in public. And a new friend told me a month later that the first time he saw me I was standing on a bench surrounded by a crowd and he thought, ‘What the fuck is she doing?’ And I got an A.
At a party once my roommate told another friend that she thinks I’ll be a performance artist, and that was the first time I’d heard her say that. Spring is for every prof telling me that I’m very performative. And all winter I’d been trying to hide behind a scarf, but then they say the scarf became performative because it was on me, and I laugh to myself about trying to hide from the things that always find me, like performativity and kissing people (everyone) at parties.
Spring is for I’ve given up on trying not to put on a show. I am treated like a spectacle in a hoodie and no makeup at the grocery store, so I will not apologize for the spectacle that erupts when I do nothing more than add lipstick.
Spring is for sweethearts who ask, “D’you think they have performance art in vancouver?” And, “I have so many clothes because I’m a performance artist”. And no, absolutely not, my mental health has nothing to do with it. Mental health has nothing to do with anything. And how could you live in this century and not be at least a little depressed. And, “I only like people who are a little fucked up”. And I totally hated her when we first met because she was so happy and she was encouraging me to be happy and I thought, bitch.
Spring is performative in the same way that your hair always looks specific in the mornings by accident.
Spring is for your hot prof jumping up and down with excitement to show you artists whose work yours could parallel someday. And telling you that you could be a really interesting artist someday. And that you have a presence. But sometimes it’s just so hard to get your essence to the spaces where it needs to be, literally your body where it’s supposed to be when, and that’s a problem.
Spring is for the predictive text in my phone suggests, “this —> cuddle”.
Spring is for we’re so platonic he didn’t even notice he was spooning me naked in the morning.
Spring is for anxiety about happiness. The seasons are designed to make us all manic depressive and I am in guilty adoration of mania, my own and others.
Spring is for anime eyes. Wide like the way I feel to the world right now. In terrified and elated awe of all the beauty and chaos and mania that it brings.
Please, just hold me. (and pet my hair)
I haven’t been blogging! (obviously) and this is a problem!
In the wrath of the end of the semester I totally fell behind on posting about the projects, adventures and art that I’ve been creating/having/exploring. And then I fell straight from that extreme (the school haze chaos) to another (not being home for more than 3 hours for days and days at a time, all parks and all substances and all the makeouts etc.)
and for that I deserve a slap on the wrist. which I am administering to myself right now as in actually I’m just drinking coffee and eating pizza like usual.
Blogging for me is a way to monitor my productivity/progress/projects – to maintain a goal I have of creating/working on creative projects everyday, so that it becomes second nature/a way of life. I have a bad habit of falling into rabbit holes, recently having realized that I am so presently minded I sometimes can’t even remember what happened last week and I can barely see more than a few days in advance. I’m also, a possibly dangerous blend of introverted and manic-social, so I can very quickly end up down down down the rabbit’s path into some sort of ‘might be an opium den, might be a thursday afternoon’ and I haven’t slept in my own bed for three nights in a row and I forgot that I’m an artist and also where I stop and you begin and I need to be creating or else I go insane!
The thing that blogging helps with most is that each post has a date on it, so I can clearly see how long it’s been since I sat down and really invested enough time to finish something. (I am getting pretty consistent with writing daily but they’re often scattered and left unfinished in word documents, my notebooks, and digital post it notes on my phone, these days written on the walk from one lovers kitchen to another. Blogging is a way to hold myself accountable, to myself, to practice writing a lot and fleshing out ideas and to keep moving, always forward.
BUT also, SPRING! and there’s been so much happening! so many wonderful and new and varied things and people and experiences (cliche mascot over here) in my life right now! I’m even thinking that maybe my happiness can be measured by how often I blog per month (although this hasn’t been scientifically examined) because I haven’t really done much of anything on here in ages but I’ve also been really happy lately.
“Happy” – an umbrella term for I like my life and myself and my friends a lot.
(and we have a lot of fun) (Montreal knows how to love well!)
***MUST WRITE/CREATE/BlOG EVEN WHEN HAPPY***
So basically this is a non-update update rant to get myself back in the flow of posting!
ALSO though! I’m done my first year of university and it went surprisingly well. I had really encouraging feedback from all of my profs, who all said very similar things, which was basically that they think that I will do/create/go very interesting things/places and that I have a really striking presence, should do more performance work and continue to push myself, just more-bigger-farther, but that I seem fairly scattered and unorganized and that this hinders me, which I really appreciate and agree with. (what this post is about basically)
^This is a picture of me (that I like, looking so happy, how I feeeeeeeeel), taken by my friend Simona while we were giggly and waiting for the Parc Ave bus on our way to the loveliest dinner party I’ve been to so far this year. so there you have proof!
Mini – I went home for the holidays. ‘Home’ is Regina Saskatchewan and the holidays were mostly giggle pile ups and lots of brunching after passing out in my winter jacket.
I did a performance with Fada Dance at the annual Xmas party as an innocent reindeer sacrificed by the three Christmas spirits to a pack of white wolves. I wore shoes on my hands and pranced, then the wolves came and devoured me (I had tinsel stuffed in my shirt as mock blood). I’ve joked with some friends that I really related to my character, ha! I’ve been dancing with Fada since I was 15 and have really missed the studio and the community since moving, so I loved that they asked me to be a part of the show.
Other highlights over the holidays include many blue (lipstick) new years eve kisses, and getting hit by a car while riding drunk in a shopping cart at 3am (because this is what we do for fun in cities without after hours parties, be warned).
Also! I got instagram! so that is major! add me. @moodynightshade
mostly I take pictures like this:
Medium – Montreal makes my heart swell!
Since the first night I got back to the city after Xmas I’ve felt like it is home to me. It’s like in first semester I was gathering all of these pieces and now they really feel like they’re coming together. Cheesy cliche I know but true, I love the community there!
In the past month I’ve made 3 films for school! Which was a huge learning curve because I’ve never done any video work before, and navigating the editing programs is like a hella brain ache. I have cried in the computer labs like at least 5 times. Sometimes due to life shit making me bawl-y emotional, sometimes cause I’d had to re-load all of my video files into the same project over 6 times and then it took 2 hours to render, just in time for my class critique and then it saved incorrectly and everything was lost all over again. whyy.
So I went to my critique crying with nothing to show. Thankfully my profs let me present the following week and gave me chocolate to cheer up. Harry Potter anyone?
This also means that I used a canon for the first time. Love at first focus!
Some friends from class and I got drunk with our profs. That was so art school sitcom I can’t even write about it here, but I will tell you that we inhaled all of the poutines.
Also, I’m taking a performance art class this semester! Which is exciting but so far has mostly just meant that on Tuesday mornings I watch videos of people mutilating their bodies and doing things naked for 4 hours. (I’m only sort of kidding)
*Side note/detour: Also, I’ve been especially depressed lately. And I’m only including this in my list of ‘Lately’ things because people keep asking me if I’m sad and it seems like they’re hoping I’ll say that I’m not. But I am, and I have been, and maybe I always will be in many ways, and I think that’s okay! Sadness happens, as does happiness, as do many tangled emotions, all the time, everyday. One of my major (many) pet peeves with our culture is this idea that everyones supposed to be happy all of the time, and as if you can’t feel various emotions simultaneously. My depression exists in a constant state of flux, and it’s really important to me to acknowledge this so I can continue to get better at dealing with it. I have a history of childhood trauma, everyday regular life is traumatizing, these things aren’t going anywhere, so why ignore them any more or less than the rad stuff?*
Mega – Right now I’m in New York!
A super dreamy cafe in Brooklyn called the ‘Tea Lounge’ to be exact.
(it’s reading/anti student suicides week woooooooooo!)
My friend Simona and I caught the bus last Friday morning and we’re here till this Monday morning. I didn’t sleep on the Thursday night before we left. I also couldn’t wash the classic make out smeared, bright red lipstick off my face, so I went through the super dystopian US customs looking like a whore. Such a mess, Ha!
NY is so endless! like woah I can’t even grasp it. We’ve been staying with the loveliest couch surfers, mostly exploring as many areas as possible and gallery hopping by day, party perusing by night. Almost everyone is vegetarian and graffiti is king.
Today I went to the Brooklyn Museum, this is me and Judy Chicago’s The Dinner Party:
I’ll post more about the projects I’ve been working on & this trip soon! I ❤ NYC Mhmmm
It’s my first actual day back in my hometowwwwwn.
And I haven’t slept, at all. this is my latest thing, to not be able to, or sometimes to not even really try to sleep when everyone else is.
I just can’t turn my brain off.
And at night my brain goes into super high gear over drive, it just happens to be when I discover ALL of the best twitter poets, and stellar feminist blog articles that link to 5 more articles that I want to read in each one.
And the cats, at my old house, where I’m staying, they’re like genetically modified cuddle cats, like I couldn’t sleep and miss that supreme level of cuteness, no way.
I had a shower this morning forgetting that it’s winter and that my hair will freeze if I go outside for hours now (I’m firmly super anti blow dryers near my precious hair).
Things are so much easier in the big city.
In Montreal your hair is always insta-2 days greasy in that so sexy way you always wish it would be, even right after you’ve just washed it. It’s like, from the pollution or something.
So I’m writing from bed instead of my desired old haunt coffee shop.
The bonus to this is CATS. the bonus is always cats. right now I have a cat friend head rest. puuurrrrrrrr therapy.
Maybe my ideal man is a cat. wait not maybe, definitely. Am I a cat? what?
I might never leave this house. just perpetuate a spa scenario throughout the entire holidays. Pretty sure I look transplanted straight from the 60’s, in my matching behive towel-duvet cover set.
I got into town last night around 10 or something, my sister and I drover here from Saskatoon where I’d been for a couple of days after taking the train there from Montreal.
It was my moms birthday yesterday and so we just went for beers at the pub to catch up.
So far I’ve noticed two things that have changed about the city.
All of my friends are in couples, and more specifically, all different couples than when I left.
There’s this weird space age looking plastic dome over the courthouse. I guess they’re re-doing the bricks or something. I’m really in favor of all space age themed and/or styled scenarios, especially with the end/beginning of the world happening this week and the soon to be aired Mars Astronaut try-outs reality TV show (if you haven’t heard of this, you’ve seriously gotta Google.)
The train ride was was long (5pm Tuesday to 1am Thursday in total) and super beautiful and I didn’t take any pictures, but had such a wonderful time.
Coffee, chess, making friends and story telling/listening are really all consuming.
I was on vacation!
The way that I pack feels like a sign of serious psychological trauma. What’s with trying to carry my entire life with me at all times? It’s like I want to be constantly prepared for maybe never going home, or back to where ever I cam from.
A friend and I at the pub last night were joking that I’m getting a university degree in perversion, yep perfect.
I had a strange time in Saskatoon for a few reasons,
One being that I was at one of those parties where everybody and their parents are there, along with their parents ex husbands/wives, and their ex lovers and they’ve all dated and every one of them is someones parent/child, and the connections get to be sort of totally hilarious especially when set in this super beautiful Christmas scene and it’s just all too made for a TV movie.
Another reason is because I fainted at the party.
I’ve never fainted before, and it was probably because I had forgotten to eat all (was sleeping most of the) day, it was also speculated that traveling and lots of change could be factors. I was talking to someone normally and then all of a sudden everything, like all of my senses, were going in and out of focus. I couldn’t figure out what was going at first so I tried to continue my conversation, and then I fell over/friends carried/shuffled me upstairs. It’s a terrible feeling, my first instincts were ‘am I somehow high?’ and ‘am I going insane?’ Like what is happening and why am I not in control of my body? The good thing is that almost as soon as I laid down I felt better, and my little sister brought me carrot sticks and bread and then we just had girl chats upstairs for a while.
Someone later asked why I fainted and an ex boy-friends mom/friend replied for me, “because she’s just a Jane Austen kind of girl.” ha!
Now I’m off for an all day bash with a ton of hometown friends, AWWWW! (cats)
My favorite shop on Saint Laurent.My walk to school. Taken downtown, beside the McGill campus.Taken in an alley way right before I took this.Super cute sculptures in progress by a friend in my drawing class.
I put rhinestone diamonds on every part of my arm where I have psoriasis as research for a self portrait using these on a 2D painting of myself for a sculpture project in drawing class.
Fall is the ultimate neo goth season, and is best spent tripping on giggles down Parc Ave with a friend who’s yelling, “You’re a witch, aren’t you!” and then doing a reenactment of your body up in flames at the stake, and through his own laughter he confirms that you know how lucky you are to have been born in this century.
Fall is for gangs of fur coats. And alley way mosh dance parties illuminated by soaked street lights and sparklers that are resilient to flames and flash lights for cameras. And friends with green eyebrows, WTF!? All she said was, “I know, I’m a bitch.”
Fall is for, this was all still just as funny in the morning.
Fall is for, “I’m in this mood like it’s still Halloween so I can do whatever I want.”
Fall is for wearing your demons on your sleeve. Or watching your demons dance between the wooden tables of a poetry and projections showcase and deciding to put on someone else’s demons on for a try. Fall is for the vulnerable, and the embracing.
Embracing the haunt, and loving it.
Fall is for the root chakra.
Fall is for trying to be a good student, and feeling like you’re terrible at it, but then realizing that you don’t have to do it like anyone/everyone else, and that you can make it up your own way, just like everything else in life, and wondering why this wasn’t more obvious.
Fall is for, up all night at the studio, and reading your poetry out loud in a new city for an audience for the first time, and for winning the prize in your drawing class for being the first person to have a sketch book that’s literally rotting, because you’ve collected probably a hundred leaves and stupidly used white glue which has made them rotting leaves.
Fall is for, real life time lapses, ADHD, illusion-ary doorways, hoarding fashion magazines and dreaming of color draped in all of the furs.
Fall is for, thinking that I haven’t been writing enough, but don’t I always feel this way?
Fall is for, copy and pasting 30+ feminism quotes whilst having a crush on 3000+ guys.
Fall is for, scarves make for optimal flirting.
Fall is for stumbling (maybe literally) upon art parties that are directly related to the projects you’ve just started the research for. Fall is for parties count as productivity. Fall is for people who love endless dancing.
Fall is for all of the ultimate second guessing.
Fall is for I have brunched in my leopard print coat for three weekends in a row.
Fall is for this blog post is scattered.
These next few pictures were taken at Theatre Saint Catherines during the ‘No!’ Haunted House. One of them is pretty X rated, so be warned, and just know that it’s only a dildo.
This homemade Homer Simpson costume is by the same actor who made his own fake skin mask to look like his mouth had been sewn shut for the haunted house. I really regret not getting a picture of that, but I know that there are some floating around somewhere.
Fall is for making this Holobody music video, starting in my (circa Saskatchewan, yay!) friend (and one half of the loveliest sibling band) Luke’s apartment, and migrating through various Mile End alley ways, fire escapes and strangers rooftops, the abandoned graffiti warehouse, champagne at Nouveau Palais, endless hilarity at the strip club Exotica (my first strip club! also my first strip club head injury, HA!), and then what led to this:
And sticking your hands up the nostrils of a horse face mask while you dance and alternate between hands up his nose + coating hearts all over your pants (tights).
And waking up covered in paper hearts.
The video is for a soon to be released song, you can see/hear the trailer here. Except that the whole thing wont just be of my hair, probably.
Fall is for breaking, entering and sneaking around abandoned courtyards, fire escapes, rooftops and various warehouses like every other day. Fall is for climbing fences and no party ending before 5am. Fall is for every color looks better against a grey lit sky.
Basically, fall is for the ultimate.
Post haunted house on Saturday: singing Shakespeare in the street, arriving at the IT party while the cops were breaking it up, watching trains (right in front of your face/on the other side of the fence), unnecessarily drinking PBR’s out of to go coffee mugs (public drinking is barely enforced anyway), crashing Halloween (the week long celebration) loft parties based on the lights you can see while passing by warehouses, finding a series of vagina drawings (it was fate!), and making new friends to eat 5am bagels with = ideal evening.