A man says in a Spanish accent that he’s closing the window beside me and I say,
“It’s going to rain?”
Disbelieving, liking the air untill yes it’s pouring.
Sitting under a coat rack in the corner, our legs intertwined.
His best friends girlfriend keeps calling me his girlfriend,
loudly and giggling.
“Not girlfriend!” I say from under the coat rack.
He’s sticking his hands in through the rips in my jeans,
we are high on MDMA.
A black capsule split in the bathroom,
he wrapped it in toilet paper.
I made a face,
asking does this actually work?
I swallowed it anyway since he’s been doing drugs for like as long as I’ve been alive.
“Would you like a bump?” Asked another,
the kind of aquaintance I haven’t known how to bond with previously and I hesitated,
“Oh…,” he said, “I dunno, I’m just trying to be nice.”
So I did two off my triangle tattoo because why not and this is how to make friends.
Then I met a guy who looks like Nickelback and we did a bump together too.
Then he stalked me all night like a fucking softcore Canadian nightmare.
Standing way too close, staring, following.
As if I owe him sex for a sniff of Coke.
Haunted by his terrible haircut,
lurking in the shadows of the shadow loft.
So I crawl under the coat rack,
digging in my bag for my soggy gum.
I need three pieces to save the skin inside my cheeks.
And we watch as he lurks at the bar,
watching us be watched.
His best friends girlfriend keeps slipping us free vodka drinks.
We watch super models hullucinate and I rant about friendships.
Beside the bar,
under the coat rack,
he says, “Not girlfirend!”
His eyes coaxing and scanning my face like the first time,
when he was the stalk-y one.
“She’s just teasing us.
You do whatever you want,
I’m just happy to spend time with you.”
And I smiled the smile I feel for being so happy to hear men say that.
And the spanish man with a cigerette in his mouth and a coffee in his hand,
slides back open my cafe window.
Even though it’s still raining,
the wind has softened and the storm has passed.
We exchange smiles and I say, “Thanks.”
Jera and I got hours of amusement out of these Barbie wigs.
I spent four days this summer working for Charmaine Hussum in the paint department on the set of ‘Stranded’, a sci-fi film staring Christian Slater (watch The Heathers – best psychopathic romance – Winona forever) that’s now currently in production in Regina. The film takes place on a space ship and everything was painted one of three shades of grey.
I used to work on film sets all the time (usually as an extra or stand in) because my parents were both actors, but I hadn’t for a few years until this summer and had a really comforting sense of feeling at home there. The days are really long (usually 12 hours) and tiring (imagine me, heavy lifting!) laced with a dry, sarcastic humor but always different and interesting (I love that sense of creating a physical but imaginary space). Everyone drinks too much Tim Hortons coffee, gossips, works really hard, pulls endless inside jokes and ironically seems to be right out of a real TV show. Taking photos is unfortunately (but understandably) banned on set for copy right reasons or I’d have taken a ton of them!On July 14th we hosted a ‘Virtual Garden Party’ in the backyard at SEED for New Dance Horizons annual ‘Secret Garden Tour’ to raise funds for their never ending list of dance performances, workshops and events. We decorated our back yard (pictured here: my floral framing workspace, using magazine cut outs, my own pillow cases and antique paintings to adorn our white washed fence), had local artists/friends put together garden themed videos and photographs that were projected on our neighboring building, a DJ, and dance performances in the space. The night was a total blast and felt really more like a party in three parts: the official socializing and artsy affair, the wino-rain-dance and dress up-photo shoot hilarity, and the late night (early morning) hookah smoking hang out. Check out these great (way higher quality) party photos by Jason Orban.Artwork by Lisa Lowen at the RobBos Art Projects Gallery. So gorgeous.Self portrait-reflections photo taken in a parking lot on my (shortcut) walk downtown.There’s a new boss in my house and she’s the most adorable rascal without a name (that’s stuck yet). I mostly just call her any and all terms of endearment. AWWWWWWWW!!!Life in Saskatchewan: always waiting for a train when you’re in a rush. Taken just outside of Indian Head on our way to Katepwa beach. My sister and I spent last weekend there at a family friends cabin to help watch over their two children, Sam, 8 and Sophie, 6, who’re autistic. They’re probably my favorite people alive, ultimately the sweetest ever.
Sam has no language and is what’s called “low functioning” – he can’t take care of himself, communicate in any traditional way or learn (spacial or personal) boundaries but he’s so incredibly beautiful and intelligent in a way that you have watch very closely to realize because it’s unlike any one else. He loves patterned fabric, ice cream, playing in water, tickle fights, climbing everything, cuddling and anything that he can touch or play with that has texture and movement, like grass, ribbon and curtains. Sophie is at a much different place on the autism spectrum, she goes to a regular school and can read really well. She loves mud, the lion king, singing, her kittens, playing outside, dress up and telling stories.
*I (very) unfortunately didn’t get any photos of them because I was always distracted by trying to keep an eye on them (Sam has a habit for running away, down the shore line, onto roads, ect). My immediate family has never been much of the cabin types, so it’s really lovely to have adopted extended family that like to have camp fires and fix boats.
This week I’ve been in Saskatoon at the Fringe festival, mostly shopping and chugging coffee. Tonight I’m seeing the latest show by one of my favorite poets, Jem Rolls. He’s british and incredible and kind of reminds me of my dad in a tough love and boxy Hawaiian T-shirt kind of way.
This weekend is also the Regina Folk Festival, where I’ll be working at the SEED booth in the Arts Market (come and visit!), wearing glitter, drooling over the mass of talent and dancing for as long as my lace-y leather boots can carry me.
busy busy busy.
OH, and I’m moving to Montreal in approximately twenty days.
Now begins the countdown of daily seizure-ly freak out moments, hard to swallow nostalgia and friends pre-maturely watery eyes of goodbye.
choooo chooooo (train sounds).
A couple of weeks ago my girlfriends Katherine, Jera, and my little sister Jamie went on a two day lakeside camping (tenting) vacation where we basically didn’t talk to anyone but each other, forgot to pack every practical thing (like a pot for boiling water, coffee with drawwwl, but were well equipped with 8 bathing suits and 5 bottles of nail polish) and got matching sunburns on our butts. These are my photo’s from that weekend:
(Scroll over the images for added tidbits.)
“Festivals for us, are like a hippy treat, a gypsy fix, a place to find a loving home for every silk patterned beauty we would at any other time of year need to layer over and under with fleece.”
My school teachers always told me not to run my sentences on-and-on-and-on, but but but, I just can’t stop! (and according to Vladimir Nabokov, I may never need to) Cause, they don’t teach style in school, right? So you have to make it up. Cookie cutter me out.