I saw this guy walking down the street and I had to run and get a picture. The worst part is that the entire time I was running (yes I was actually running to catch this gem) I was trying to think of something witty to say, and all that came out of my mouth when I reached him was "I fucked your mom."
Seriously disappointed myself with such a ridiculous statement, but I think it offended him just the same. Although I wish I hadn't made myself look less intelligent than a rock. I just don't understand the intense need to take your repression out on people who are happily living honest lives. Intolerance and judgement are so prevalent in religion that it makes me sick. How did someone in history read through the first testament in the christian bible and think "wow, that is an amazing and compassionate invisible person. I think I'll worship him and spread his hate-filled, and misinterpreted quotes." Y'know, try to make everyone feel like shit, and then go home and commit to being lonely and sexually and emotionally repressed for fucking ever.
What was awesome is that two blocks away she was raising up some good ol' fashioned flames :)
During Toronto Pride this year, I got to see a really great band/project. Usually every year consists of going up on Friday, doing the same clubs and parks, 3 bottles of Jack Daniels, ridiculous dancing to horrible music in an overly crowded area, and intense conversations about the social politics of anything and everything queer. Then the drive home out of a place that never actually existed.
This year we said fuck it.
Well kind of. We said fuck it on Friday night. No more going to an over-rated club filled with pretentious lesbians who just came out last year and want to make out in front of people, while still expecting to shock them for some fucking reason (nothing creeps me out more than people making eye contact with me while making out with someone). No more cougars (who clearly just left their incompetent husbands) calling me "Shane" because they want me to be her. Most importantly no more bad music. At least not for one night.
Jaime, Amanda, and myself headed to Lee's Palace to see MEN, expecting it to be sold out. Two of the members were formerly of Le Tigre, so we had hopes of being in the company of like-minded queers, while having some breathing room outside of the overwhelming area that was blocked off. The area segregating everyone, and telling them where they could be gay, and where tourists could come and see "the gays" It wasnt sold out at all which was a giant relief.
MEN fucking rocked. Such an awkward trio with the tackiest outfits. Such an amazing time. Im already excited to see them come back to Toronto in October. The crowd was refreshingly unpredictable. I couldn't tell who was gay or straight, and I couldn't tell what most people were carrying in their pants, which is exactly where I wanted to be. I wish more people cared less about image, and more about substance. Of course I also wish more people weren't conformists (yes, even at Pride) and pushed the envelope as well.
They ended with a fantastic cover of Michael Jackson's "Man in the Mirror", even though I'm not a huge fan of him. I bought their 4 song EP (all they had) and picked up a zine they were selling (the zine deserves a whole seperate entry).
Jaime got hit with a bag of drunk, and after wandering off, came back to report the staff had "stolen" her ID. We threw our arms around her, walked out and quietly asked the bouncer for it back promising not to come back.
Tory and I have been so busy, but one thing I'm currently enjoying is our relationship. I mean that word in it's most literal definition. I admit that one of the things that had me hesitant about taking on a house with such demanding tasks is that I've seen people become resentful of each other. Sometimes people can't live under previously unexperienced pressure and frustration with someone else. At least without it leading to unnecessary and unexplainable lash-outs. I was worried about the deterioration of a relationship that will always need constant construction, because of the construction of a material object. A life partner, or a friend, it's hard no matter what.
We're learning a LOT about each other. Pressure, and hard decisions really makes you speak without much time to think, and so far that very fact has been working in our favour for the most part. We've become repressed of our familiarities because of our circumstances, and are trying to make small instances of relief for each other, and so far they have teetered in perfect balance. It's not to say that there hasn't been disorienting moments of uncalled for vocalizations, but it makes us work on them, before we can work on anything else. This is mainly because, above everything else, we need each other at our best to get work done. Aside from some small amounts of help, its just been the 2 of us doing a lot of work.
"We are made to fight, and fuck, and talk, and fight again, and sit around and laugh until we choke." That line keeps a level of normalcy in my head.
We've had these bizarre moments lately. Kind of like when you push yourself so hard, and then you recognize the profound comfort when it's there because of it's immense need I suppose. When we find ourselves in those moments these strange truths come out. Things we've held on to that don't matter any more, but still feel better to just say. Pet peeves, observations, confessions, questions, and memories or projections of the future. They come out mostly because of the overabundance of time spent around each other. I've actually been shocked by some of them, both heard and said.
Maybe we're learning about each other while we're learning about ourselves. I would imagine that's how most self-reflection is done anyhow.
It's good, but it's exhausting. Working on 2 accomplishments at once is perplexing at times, mostly because we don't acknowledge it. You can't really with both a house or a person. You can't really get what it was, until you get to see it done and then appreciate or re-evaluate the entire thing.
The bastard still pisses me off once and a while, but so does the wallpaper removal.
I have to find a way to update this. Problem is the only time I have is at work, and the only time I can add photos is at home, where the is no such thing as time. I'll figure it out somehow, but today is just a faceless update with visuals left up to the imagination.
Tory and I bought a house (well actually we borrowed some money from the bank, and used it to buy a house. A house that was worth money that the person we gave it to had not spent on it in the first place. Strange.) Anyhow, it's a great house. It's old with arched doorways, an old heavy pewter door handle, 5 bedrooms, one and a half bathrooms (although if you took the random shower in the basement, and combined it with the 2 piece bathroom upstairs, it kinda makes 2?).
It has a yard. Priorities were the yard, and a potential space for a jam spot/recording studio. We got both and more for a really great price.
Now the cost, because we're obviously not rich, it can't be that easy. It was an old lady's house. She had been in a wheelchair for quite some time (we have a wheelchair ramp as well, which creates a halfway-up-the-driveway-before-coming-back-down-it sort of detour every time we need to get to one side of the backyard). She lived only on the main floor, never going upstairs or down, and never maintaining or cleaning a thing. She also had 2 dogs, that she rarely let outside. She also had a family who weren't the slightest bit interested in visiting or helping her with anything.
I hear people all the time going on about how much unexpected work they find when they buy a house. I get that, and was prepared, but I think the worst is when you're trying to prepare for that on top of all of the expected renovations that you're willingly taking on in the first place. Wow. It's been an interesting and exhausting ride since April 1st.
So far we've refinished all of the hardwood floors on 2 floors, gutted and redone the entire kitchen, and halfway through painting the living room and dining room. The kitchen was hell. Absolute hell. There were some days where both of us were just beyond frustrated and desperate for a tiny break. It gave us none. On top of that we were two busy vegans with no kitchen. No stove or fridge. Just a bar fridge in the basement, and a microwave and a kettle. Working your ass off while being severely malnourished takes absolutely everything out of you, and on top of that we were trying to get whatever we could done between our work schedules.
On top of that I found out that I have a disease called Pernicious Anemia, which made some days very difficult to function, especially when it had been a few weeks since an injection.
Everything in the house was wallpapered, some 2 layers, most the old kind with the actual glue used to make it adhere to the wall. All of the outlets had to be redone, and a stove/oven/dishwasher ancient combo had to be removed from being hardwired. The hose outside had almost non-existent pressure, and after trying to replace the valve, we busted a pipe in the ceiling of the basement. We learned how to solder pipes and fit plumbing quickly. We now have water pressure and dont have to stnd directly over top of eevry single plant while watering it. We cut a sink space in our countertop, and put together and assembled and mounted all of our cupboards.
We learned the downfall of painting over top of oil paint, and had to repaint our kitchen 7 times. Including the ceiling.
We dug out a gigantic garden borrowing our neighbor's rototiller. It was ancient, had a screwdriver balanced in the gas tank, and a rope holding the handle. It kind of worked, but because it had no pin, it had not control, and almost rode Tory around the yard.
We changed light fixtures, and bought a bed for the sole purpose of building the frame in our bedroom, because ours wont fit up the stairs.
We called Roto-Rooter when our basement backed up years of an old woman's shit. A product of our monstrous (and amazing) maple tree creeping into our pipes.
We scraped and painted our entire basement gaining a lung infection from the old paint and bad masks. We installed a faucet with a redirecting piece for a shower head, and sealed leaks in drains.
We unpacked our kitchen and finally got to cook a meal, and do the dishes in a functioning sink.
We puttied over the 140 pin holes where she had 140 pictures of King Charles Spaniels.
Not in that order, because I dont know what I did when. I dont even know what I'm doing today.
The last thing that I do remember in that house is that last night, covered in orange paint with a glass of vodka and cranberry juice, I got to watch an incredibly big loud storm in a sunroom full of windows. Worth every minute.