So a close friend of Jen's from Mcgill had his apartment broken into last week, and Jen being the sweetheart of a friend that she is, decided to rally james' friends together to chip in cash to help him get another laptop. We went out to Coasters as it was just opening again, james was very happy and surprised, and quite frankly who wouldn't be.
This specific night Jens dad was in town as well, so after a certain point Jen left and I stayed behind with James and Char. James started getting drunker and drunker, as he normally does. We were sitting next to each other, and was relating the story of Jen being hit on clumsily by a guy at Boccaccino's, which while relatively unpainful (due to his clumsiness and Jens obvious reticence) I still knew that it was the first in a long line of potentially painful ordeals. As I told this to james, at one point he turns to me, swaying slightly, and says,
"You're not fooling me Lon, you still love her, and tell me otherwise and I'll say that you're lying"
I started to protest, because I wanted him to understand exactly what was going on. As I have explained ealier in my blogs I spent a lot of time crushing my love for Jen, and whatever terminology you want to use (the classic Still love her but not IN love with her or whatever), my feelings aren't the same as they used to be. And I made this clear to james.
This whole situation was still a wake up call somewhat, and I have to make sure that I don't slip back into those feelings, since they're like a warm shower early in the morning, it only takes a moments hesitation to stand too long in the warmth, and then be late for the things you have to do to keep your mind off the cozy embrace you leave every morning.
Monday, January 22, 2007
Wednesday, January 17, 2007
Strength
I had a random train of thought the other day. It involves love and how its perceived by different kinds of men. I've always lain a swath between the "sensitive" guys and the "Jock" guys. Myself being the former.
Now obviously I will side with my self over the other side, and this is what sparked the train of thought. I felt that it takes a lot more strength to take that chance, leave yourself completely open for the soul crushing agony that awaits on the sidelines of any level of love. From my point of view, it seems like these guys who go out, and are just trying to score the one night stand, are poorly equipped to love, they have no idea what its like, and they just can't expose themselves in that way.
A lot of this admitedly is tied to my concept of what love is, but I feel like a big part of it is exposing yourself completely to someone else, and them loving you for who you are, even the bad parts, even the parts you're not proud of, because its all those parts that make you who you are, and how could they love you without understanding the whole picture.
Now, of course there are extraneous circumstances, I'm sure some of these guys simply have walls up due to a recent relationship, or a woman who fucked with them, or guilt over fucking over another woman, etc etc.
I still stand by my point that the hardest thing to do is yield, yield completely and utterly to someone else, to splay yourself emotionally naked for them to catalogue the pros and cons, and realize that maybe they'll hate you for it, maybe they'll take the opportunity to point out the flaws you hate the most, but I feel that it takes the utmost strength to be able to expose that in the first place.
I realize this post is a little sappy, and meandering, I didn't really give it much though I just kinda "blogged" it out, but hey that' s what this is for.
Now obviously I will side with my self over the other side, and this is what sparked the train of thought. I felt that it takes a lot more strength to take that chance, leave yourself completely open for the soul crushing agony that awaits on the sidelines of any level of love. From my point of view, it seems like these guys who go out, and are just trying to score the one night stand, are poorly equipped to love, they have no idea what its like, and they just can't expose themselves in that way.
A lot of this admitedly is tied to my concept of what love is, but I feel like a big part of it is exposing yourself completely to someone else, and them loving you for who you are, even the bad parts, even the parts you're not proud of, because its all those parts that make you who you are, and how could they love you without understanding the whole picture.
Now, of course there are extraneous circumstances, I'm sure some of these guys simply have walls up due to a recent relationship, or a woman who fucked with them, or guilt over fucking over another woman, etc etc.
I still stand by my point that the hardest thing to do is yield, yield completely and utterly to someone else, to splay yourself emotionally naked for them to catalogue the pros and cons, and realize that maybe they'll hate you for it, maybe they'll take the opportunity to point out the flaws you hate the most, but I feel that it takes the utmost strength to be able to expose that in the first place.
I realize this post is a little sappy, and meandering, I didn't really give it much though I just kinda "blogged" it out, but hey that' s what this is for.
Sunday, January 14, 2007
Fancy Clothes shopping
This past friday, Jen and I had planned on going out and catching some live jazz, I suggested casually at one point that maybe we could dress up, for kicks, since neither of us usually has any reason to do so. She loved the idea, as did I, but me being me, I had next to nothing appropriate. So the friday of, after work, I was planning on buying something appropriate.
At lunch I scouted a store called Vizoni within Place Ville marie, I went in just to get a price on a full suit, and I was served by an older woman. She is/was a character, and at this point I had no idea to what degree. I returned to Vizoni after work to see what I could get since they had a lot of sales going, and I needed someone willing to help me with my aesthetic sense rather than line their own pockets.
I retured after work, and asked her point blank to pick out a shirt and tie for me. She is Edna Mole from the Incredibles, I'm convinced, I don't remember the entire conversation but I will relay the things that I do remember. Firstly what she looked like, She was an older woman probably early 40's, long brown hair, brown eyes hidden behind oversized italian style sunglasses (despite being buried within an underground mall). She wore a black/brown, dress/shift with a sloping scarf thing overtop. She spoke seriously about everything, as if our conversation was bugged and actively monitored by the Fashion Police. Now the excerpts that I can remember.
"I will treat you like a son" She said
"Uh Thank you, that's very kind of you"
"I have a son you know...(she could have taken a haul from a cigarette in this pause) but he is a bastard" her voice leaves the road onto gravely vocal offroading here.
Next Tangent
"What tie would you suggest with this shirt"
"Ah" She says, and holds up a finger signalling me to wait while she finds the perfect tie.
"This one is perfect, it will bring out your blue eyes" She says, as I'm thinking that my eyes are green, but I want to avoid being lashed by the vinyl tape measure that's constantly draped around her neck. She hands me a (to my novice judgement) handsome blue tie.
"Here try this". A little embarassed I brandish the tie like a child that I don't know how to hold,
"I"m sorry but I don't know how to tie a tie..."
"Is no problem, I be right back" and she leaves the store. I stand and wait, and surely within a minute or two she returns with a tied tie. I try it on, but the skinny piece was too long.
I turn to her, "Err this isn't right, can I adjust it?"
"No, no just go next door, ask for the Big guy, he will tie the tie for you, now go, GO" and she shoos me away.
I wander out of the store, and assume that another clothing store next door, is kindly taking on the responsibility of tying the tie's of Vizoni's patrons. The place next door is a jewelery store, and theres a hefty gentlemen at the back, and I approach.
"Are you the guy that tied this tie?" I say, a little trepidatious at finding out what the relationship is between the jewelery store and Momma Fashion.
"Yea, oh not such a good fit eh" A raucous laugh makes him jiggle in a not entirely unseemly manor.
"Here pass it back, I"ll try again." He replaces it on himself, and we have small talk about where I'm going and soforth. A second attempt is still too large, which reminds me that my kind tie afficionado is about 3 times my size and has a neck the size of a telephone pole compared to my skinny lampost.
Another tangent
She turns to me after we've picked out the shirt "You should buy some pants, I have these on special usually 90 now only 45." and I eye the pants, they're better than what I"m wearing.
"Lets see how I look in them" and she smiles as if I just told her the secret of the meaning of life.
"Do you have them in 32?"
"Only 30...but I have these in your size, a little bit more expensive, but marked down from 225"
I decide to give them a try, and they do look nice, and I come back out of the changing room as she is fiddling with the same pants still on the shelf.
"Come, come" she says and beckons me to her. I walk over,
"Turn" and she does a circular motion, I turn and hear her inhale sharply, and she then pats me on the bum.
"You look fabulous, these pants are made for you."
Anyhow, this whole experience was extremely amusing, and despite the price hike compared to say Moores, I will go back there to buy a suit, if only to enjoy her company.
At lunch I scouted a store called Vizoni within Place Ville marie, I went in just to get a price on a full suit, and I was served by an older woman. She is/was a character, and at this point I had no idea to what degree. I returned to Vizoni after work to see what I could get since they had a lot of sales going, and I needed someone willing to help me with my aesthetic sense rather than line their own pockets.
I retured after work, and asked her point blank to pick out a shirt and tie for me. She is Edna Mole from the Incredibles, I'm convinced, I don't remember the entire conversation but I will relay the things that I do remember. Firstly what she looked like, She was an older woman probably early 40's, long brown hair, brown eyes hidden behind oversized italian style sunglasses (despite being buried within an underground mall). She wore a black/brown, dress/shift with a sloping scarf thing overtop. She spoke seriously about everything, as if our conversation was bugged and actively monitored by the Fashion Police. Now the excerpts that I can remember.
"I will treat you like a son" She said
"Uh Thank you, that's very kind of you"
"I have a son you know...(she could have taken a haul from a cigarette in this pause) but he is a bastard" her voice leaves the road onto gravely vocal offroading here.
Next Tangent
"What tie would you suggest with this shirt"
"Ah" She says, and holds up a finger signalling me to wait while she finds the perfect tie.
"This one is perfect, it will bring out your blue eyes" She says, as I'm thinking that my eyes are green, but I want to avoid being lashed by the vinyl tape measure that's constantly draped around her neck. She hands me a (to my novice judgement) handsome blue tie.
"Here try this". A little embarassed I brandish the tie like a child that I don't know how to hold,
"I"m sorry but I don't know how to tie a tie..."
"Is no problem, I be right back" and she leaves the store. I stand and wait, and surely within a minute or two she returns with a tied tie. I try it on, but the skinny piece was too long.
I turn to her, "Err this isn't right, can I adjust it?"
"No, no just go next door, ask for the Big guy, he will tie the tie for you, now go, GO" and she shoos me away.
I wander out of the store, and assume that another clothing store next door, is kindly taking on the responsibility of tying the tie's of Vizoni's patrons. The place next door is a jewelery store, and theres a hefty gentlemen at the back, and I approach.
"Are you the guy that tied this tie?" I say, a little trepidatious at finding out what the relationship is between the jewelery store and Momma Fashion.
"Yea, oh not such a good fit eh" A raucous laugh makes him jiggle in a not entirely unseemly manor.
"Here pass it back, I"ll try again." He replaces it on himself, and we have small talk about where I'm going and soforth. A second attempt is still too large, which reminds me that my kind tie afficionado is about 3 times my size and has a neck the size of a telephone pole compared to my skinny lampost.
Another tangent
She turns to me after we've picked out the shirt "You should buy some pants, I have these on special usually 90 now only 45." and I eye the pants, they're better than what I"m wearing.
"Lets see how I look in them" and she smiles as if I just told her the secret of the meaning of life.
"Do you have them in 32?"
"Only 30...but I have these in your size, a little bit more expensive, but marked down from 225"
I decide to give them a try, and they do look nice, and I come back out of the changing room as she is fiddling with the same pants still on the shelf.
"Come, come" she says and beckons me to her. I walk over,
"Turn" and she does a circular motion, I turn and hear her inhale sharply, and she then pats me on the bum.
"You look fabulous, these pants are made for you."
Anyhow, this whole experience was extremely amusing, and despite the price hike compared to say Moores, I will go back there to buy a suit, if only to enjoy her company.
Thursday, January 4, 2007
Hunter S Thompson
So I finally got paid today, and felt like rewarding myself ever so slightly, hopefully be expanding my knowledge. I decided to go to Chapters and pick up "Fear and Loathing in las vegas" since I had had it referred to me by numerous friends whom I took as people who's book recommendations I respect quite deeply, and had also found out that he (Hunter S Thompson) was a close friend of Kurt Vonnegut, whom I love as an author.
I had previously looked at Fear and Loathing in bookstores, but was broke at the time, and never purchased it. From the previous endeavours I knew that it would be in a strange section (Culture and Culture studies or some nonsense in chapters pointe-claire), so upon breaching the doors of chapters downtown I immediately asked the salesperson on the first floor if she could direct me to the section in which the book could be found. Her response is what inspired this post;
"Well, he should be in culture, but his books are often stolen, so go to the second floor and ask the salesperson and they can most likely point you to them"
"Really?" I say "That's strange isn't it"
"No, its pretty typical"
Slightly off mental kilter I let escalator take me upwards and onwards, where I see one salesperson serving two people, and I grab an overpriced oversugared "going straight to my heart/hips/thighs" coffee which will hopefully allow him to be free once the "Coffee-ologist" is done preparing my caffeineated beast. Now the bookseller is free, and I ask him to point me to them, surprisingly its in the Gay and Lesbians section, and I would be remiss to say that I didn't have a doubt for a moment before realizing that I would buy a good book even if it was in the "These books are for retards that like to lick toilet seats" section. My curiousity gets the better of me, and I ask the gentlemen about the theiving tendencies of Thompson fans.
"Oh yea, that's why we only keep one copy of each of his books on the shelves"
"Really? I find that so strange"
"Oh not at all, Thompson has become hip again (I'm slightly irked at the implication that students would be stealing the books) we have lots of Burroughs and Kerouac that get stolen to, and the Satanic Bible" he says the last with a raucous laugh.
Now this whole ordeal got me thinking, I imagine that the number one sellers are most likely somewhere between Oprah's book club, Harry Potter and Dan Brown, but I wonder how many of that flock actually read there books. Comparitively I would think that a stolen book would merit quite a bit of attention, I wonder what a study of stolen books accross the world would say about our culture, and furthermore I wonder who's stealing them. I'm very tempted to ask whenever I go to a store now, which are there most commonly stolen books, to see what the real people are actually reading.
I had previously looked at Fear and Loathing in bookstores, but was broke at the time, and never purchased it. From the previous endeavours I knew that it would be in a strange section (Culture and Culture studies or some nonsense in chapters pointe-claire), so upon breaching the doors of chapters downtown I immediately asked the salesperson on the first floor if she could direct me to the section in which the book could be found. Her response is what inspired this post;
"Well, he should be in culture, but his books are often stolen, so go to the second floor and ask the salesperson and they can most likely point you to them"
"Really?" I say "That's strange isn't it"
"No, its pretty typical"
Slightly off mental kilter I let escalator take me upwards and onwards, where I see one salesperson serving two people, and I grab an overpriced oversugared "going straight to my heart/hips/thighs" coffee which will hopefully allow him to be free once the "Coffee-ologist" is done preparing my caffeineated beast. Now the bookseller is free, and I ask him to point me to them, surprisingly its in the Gay and Lesbians section, and I would be remiss to say that I didn't have a doubt for a moment before realizing that I would buy a good book even if it was in the "These books are for retards that like to lick toilet seats" section. My curiousity gets the better of me, and I ask the gentlemen about the theiving tendencies of Thompson fans.
"Oh yea, that's why we only keep one copy of each of his books on the shelves"
"Really? I find that so strange"
"Oh not at all, Thompson has become hip again (I'm slightly irked at the implication that students would be stealing the books) we have lots of Burroughs and Kerouac that get stolen to, and the Satanic Bible" he says the last with a raucous laugh.
Now this whole ordeal got me thinking, I imagine that the number one sellers are most likely somewhere between Oprah's book club, Harry Potter and Dan Brown, but I wonder how many of that flock actually read there books. Comparitively I would think that a stolen book would merit quite a bit of attention, I wonder what a study of stolen books accross the world would say about our culture, and furthermore I wonder who's stealing them. I'm very tempted to ask whenever I go to a store now, which are there most commonly stolen books, to see what the real people are actually reading.
Monday, January 1, 2007
Fun had by all
And another new year's has come and gone, fun was had by seemingly most, if you can judge by the utter quietude of downtown montreal this morning. I ended up going firstly to the Lesbian House party, which was very enjoyeable, she's still perfectly cool, and quite entertaining among her friends.
Once I had some wine, I had to do some mental gymnastics in order to avoid picturing her and her attractive female ex doing exactly what lesbians do, but I managed. Nicely enough her ex's boyfriend is a pretty cool guy, we see eye to eye on buddhism and tattoos, which is a strange combination of things to see eye to eye on, but I enjoyed. I found out that apparently I"m reminiscent of an old gay friend of Mel's who used her somewhat, in what way wasn't clarified, but I can only assume monetary or emotionally...anyhow it was meant as a positive reference so I take it in stride.
I realize that closing on 9 oclock I don't have my phone, and go into the main hall where my coat hangs from a hook to check and sure enough I've missed a call from Jen. I return it, and find that she's with Rowing friends that I enjoy, and we decide that I'll come to her in a little under 15 minutes. I lose track of time slightly, actually becoming completely engrossed in meeting Buddhist tattoo guy, who despite being in fashion now, passed on a story of walking out of the tattoo parlor when asked to do a derivative asian symbol tattoo. I take another glass of wine, and a really strange drink called "Soho" which is no doubt trendier than anything I've had, its lichi liquor with two lichi floating in it, and keep up the discussion. Before I realize it, it's 10, and I've left Jen waiting, and I have to make my exit.
I actually quite enjoyed meeting mel's friends, they're nice and easy going, no issues with drug use, no issues with tattoos, but now I"m headed to the metro to ping pong to another metro to meet Jen. My brain does the salvation thing, and has me picturing a drunk Jen draped over a monolithic rowing man, but I arrive and of course its nothing of the sort. I join in the drinking game for a bit, albeit while drinking rum and ginger ale (I do not recommend, outside of new years), and enjoy the time, nice to see Jen in person again unquestionably.
We realize its inching closer and closer to midnight and that we do have to get to the Bar before the actual stroke of midnight, otherwise we can start the new years with new friends...ahahah....yea its not that funny.
The bar was originally going to be Le Bifteck, but packed to the rafters with Mcgill students and drunken Bostonians, we go accross the street to Le Pistol. Where we stay until the stroke of midnight, and shortly thereafter part to go back to Jen's for much needed rest/pre-hangover prep. I do the goodguy bits of holding her hair while she pukes, and making sure she takes the contacts out (which may have fed the need to puke...I"m not blameless lol) and we sleep well, and i'm glad that all this has worked out well enough that this is all ok, and no strangeness ensues.
All in all, a quite enjoyable new years if I do say so myself, and I do...so there. 2007.....you're yet another year, will you guys ever stop coming? I hope your...different enough from all the years past that you'll be interesting!
Once I had some wine, I had to do some mental gymnastics in order to avoid picturing her and her attractive female ex doing exactly what lesbians do, but I managed. Nicely enough her ex's boyfriend is a pretty cool guy, we see eye to eye on buddhism and tattoos, which is a strange combination of things to see eye to eye on, but I enjoyed. I found out that apparently I"m reminiscent of an old gay friend of Mel's who used her somewhat, in what way wasn't clarified, but I can only assume monetary or emotionally...anyhow it was meant as a positive reference so I take it in stride.
I realize that closing on 9 oclock I don't have my phone, and go into the main hall where my coat hangs from a hook to check and sure enough I've missed a call from Jen. I return it, and find that she's with Rowing friends that I enjoy, and we decide that I'll come to her in a little under 15 minutes. I lose track of time slightly, actually becoming completely engrossed in meeting Buddhist tattoo guy, who despite being in fashion now, passed on a story of walking out of the tattoo parlor when asked to do a derivative asian symbol tattoo. I take another glass of wine, and a really strange drink called "Soho" which is no doubt trendier than anything I've had, its lichi liquor with two lichi floating in it, and keep up the discussion. Before I realize it, it's 10, and I've left Jen waiting, and I have to make my exit.
I actually quite enjoyed meeting mel's friends, they're nice and easy going, no issues with drug use, no issues with tattoos, but now I"m headed to the metro to ping pong to another metro to meet Jen. My brain does the salvation thing, and has me picturing a drunk Jen draped over a monolithic rowing man, but I arrive and of course its nothing of the sort. I join in the drinking game for a bit, albeit while drinking rum and ginger ale (I do not recommend, outside of new years), and enjoy the time, nice to see Jen in person again unquestionably.
We realize its inching closer and closer to midnight and that we do have to get to the Bar before the actual stroke of midnight, otherwise we can start the new years with new friends...ahahah....yea its not that funny.
The bar was originally going to be Le Bifteck, but packed to the rafters with Mcgill students and drunken Bostonians, we go accross the street to Le Pistol. Where we stay until the stroke of midnight, and shortly thereafter part to go back to Jen's for much needed rest/pre-hangover prep. I do the goodguy bits of holding her hair while she pukes, and making sure she takes the contacts out (which may have fed the need to puke...I"m not blameless lol) and we sleep well, and i'm glad that all this has worked out well enough that this is all ok, and no strangeness ensues.
All in all, a quite enjoyable new years if I do say so myself, and I do...so there. 2007.....you're yet another year, will you guys ever stop coming? I hope your...different enough from all the years past that you'll be interesting!
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