the thoughts of mary jane.

(Dis)Courtesy of the Toronto Star, my horoscope today is as follows:



"When a struggle has been won, you soon become bored. But when faced with a difficult new task or challenge, the thrill of the chase motivates you. Something is now being offered to you on a plate."


I'm a pretty typical Aries when it comes down to it. Enthusiastic, confident, quick-witted and with an often overwhelming sexual energy, I still don't know why I check my horoscope because it never makes me feel better about myself or my at-the-moment-current situation. Although Aries' are characterized to be all of the perfectly acceptable aforementioned things, they also happen to be irritable, quick-tempered, sensitive and prone to nervous breakdowns.

Oh, the audacity.

kissing girls (you shouldn't kiss).

I didn't think I missed Winnipeg all that much before I went home for four days between Christmas & New Year's Eve. So much Winnipeg has been sleeping on my couch that I felt like I was getting alot of the good and none of the bad- all I needed was a king can and a parka, and nothing really would've changed. In Toronto, I still go to potlucks, I still drink more hard liquor than a girl of any stature should be drinking (especially on weeknights), and I was still being mostly innapropriate but in different ways than before. Several friends were shocked when they'd heard that I was being mostly monogamous. I never thought I was thaaat bad, but I guess I was.

I was wrong when I thought I didn't miss Winnipeg. As soon as my size six feet stepped foot on what I believe's gotta be the only place with permafrost South of the soil of the North West Territories, I knew I was in for a real treat. I knew that it was going to be a welcomed vacation from.. well, a two month vacation.



It was. Shown here, Maddy (and I) were Queens for a Day when a dinner was thrown in our honor at the Hector home of six (soon to be seven) of Winnipeg's kindest boys. Not one of our most planned out potlucks, this thrown-together fete was celebrating great cause for celebration- the return of two pretty great girls from their new pretty great lives now elsewhere. Also, Tom's hair is looking great these days, and that's definitely another cause for celebration.



Stefan, beauty shown above, was a daily thing for me in Winnipeg. Mostly by accident, seeing Stefan always reminds me of summer. Camping? Probably. I don't know when the last time he had a shower was (I'm guessing it was before Burning Man 2008), but I think that's fabulous.. You know, for him.

There are a couple things I really missed about Toronto, though, that really made it worth coming back home. It didn't hurt that I brought a little Winnipeg back with me in the form of Kate Kidder & Jane Harrington. But I did miss a couple things liiiiiiiiiiike....



Coffee the morning-after-the-night-before at Ella's Uncle down the street (and breakfast at various hip-hot-spots across the way).



Spending the night before with new friends. I spent New Year's at a gallery space by the guy who's famous for throwing up on famous paintings with Laura-Louise & Alicia. I spent Christmas Day doing some throwing up of my own after a party thrown by the aforementioned. I've seen Russ Martin a couple times too, who (and whose hair) just gets better every time we see eachother.

Oh yeah...



Him too.

Seperated for seven days felt more like seventeen after spending much of the month of December with my new photog friend. Distance is good, though, I've since decided. He's good from both near and far, and the free camera lessons don't hurt either.

Kidding, sort of...

if this room could talk.

I've been having severe heart palpitations for the past two days. If I don't make it, and I happen to expire before dinnertime, my record collection is up for grabs. Any Heart fans out there?

Don't worry, Russ. Cyndi Lauper is all yours.

hey, that's no way to say goodbye.

I've been listening to the same Leonard Cohen album for the last two hours. What does this mean?



..Other than I've had too much to drink too early in the evening.

he uses language that would make your hair curl.

Curly haired women have had it rough in history.



In grade six, I was famously dumped by Matthew Lederman for Alexis Dickson for not 'being popular enough'. Really. That's what the e-mail said. Weeks later, I found out from a friend of a friend of a friend of a friend in the seventh grade that he didn't like my hair either. Bummer. The bob was big back then, I thought. Little did I know that a bob is not the best idea when your ringlets outnumber your braincells. I should be relieved, I suppose. He could have done it over MSN Messenger.

Sure, everything was fine and dandy with c-c-c-curly haired K-K-K-Katie Morosky and Hubbell Gardiner at the beginning of The Way We Were, until she started showing her curly haired inner vixen. Next thing you know, she's offering to have a drink with him & his ladyfriend and he's saying no, leaving her alone and going home with his nice, simple, brunette, straight-haired girl. How anyone could say no to Barbra Streisand is beyond me.




In When Harry Met Sally, Harry Burns is fucking every straight haired woman in New York for years before he and Sally Albright finally do it (thank god) after she hears that the former love-of-her-life is getting married (assumedly to another straight haired woman) and subsequently fall in love after an awkward nearly month long break in their famed friendship. Talk about a run-on sentence, all this straight vs. curly is giving me a headache.



It happened to Sarah-Jessica-Parker-as-Carrie-Bradshaw to Chris Noth-as-Mr. Big (and... that straight haired girl. Natasha? Natalia? Who cares?) before they were hand in hand, husband and wife in their kabillion dollar penthouse, too. Lucy never got Schroeder ever either, did she? And I bet it wasn't because of Frieda, the naturally curly red-headed wonder.

I don't mean to be so cynical, but a single girl can only feel so good after watching When Harry Met Sally for the first time... by herself... at home... on a Thursday night. I don't know why I turned down offers to go out for Billy Crystal, with or without the beard. No orgasms tonight, whether they be real in bed or faked in a booth at the nearby deli.

"How much worse can it get than finishing dinner, having him reach over, pull a hair out of my head and start flossing with it at the table?"

Oh Meg Ryan, you obviously have so much to learn.

it be's that way sometimes.

There are so many things that are fucked up about this picture. Unfortunately, my "gentleman" friend's other ladyfriend on the right looks deliriously happy while I just look sad & pissed off.

Nina Simone, the High Priestess of Soul, sang "My Man's Gone Now" way back when. Unfortunately being a single woman for me probably won't end the same way as it did for her- with a lengthy relationship with the Prime Minister of Barbados.

...Maybe just a torrid affair with a certain Belizean beat poet? Oh wait; been there, done that.

Waiting around this weekend to find out what's to come with my quasi-pseudo relationship come Sunday, and his much awaited return from Winnipeg, is something I never would've done a year ago, so I've just recently decided to just... not. I hoping to be singing 'I Get Along Without You Very Well' instead of 'Little Girl Blue' come Saturday evening.

Chances are, I won't be.

death of a ladies' man.

Chelsea Hotel at Midnight



After evidently accidentally opening a hostel accidentally, seeming to be exclusively open & free for my fellow I-Need-To-Get-Out-Of-Winnipeg'gers, a night to myself is a rare gem. I finally started school today, the "real" reason for my big move to the big city, so I finally had an excuse to say no to the Communist's Daughter, Sweaty Betty herself, and the ladies of Henhouse without looking boring or like a bad house-hostess.

With Leonard Cohen on the record player, the sound of the needle dropping lulling me to sleep on the couch with a load of laundry polishing itself off in the distance of my one-bedroom, all-fabulous apartment, I am so tired yet so restless and totally unsure of how to live by myself. After two months here, only two weeks of it have actually been without-houseguest and with the last foreseen one departing tomorrow, I'm totally freaking out. I thought I was looking forward to being all on my own again, but to be perfectly honest it couldn't come at a worse possible time. On Thursday my gentleman friend is taking off for Winnipeg for work & back to his other love from my hometown; a lady that I'm sure is just lovely, but is really one loaf of Winnipeg rye that I quickly find growing stale. I don't wanna be no sister of mercy. I need you, I don't need you. I need you, I don't need you. And all of that jiving around.


I remember you well in the chelsea hotel,
You were talking so brave and so sweet,
Giving me head on the unmade bed,
While the limousines wait in the street.

...

I need you, I don't need you.
I need you, I don't need you.
And all of that jiving around.