he’s my europe
no not vain just, checkin’ out the grill, makin’ sure everything’s still in order.
this weekend deserves a love letter. a fond farewell and a fuck you. exhausting. satisfactory. stressful. lazy. delightful. packed and empty. i forgot my perfectly made blondie’s coffee in a cab on my way to little italy. i take pride in the amount of honey and milk i add to my americanos. when i finish drinking one i march right in to the next hipster coffee shop and ride that caffeine weed buzz coasting up and down all day long.
gonna dick around the burbs for a bit. commuting takes the energy right out of you but oh well not like i’m traveling there to run a marathon or anything. despite tomorrow’s stress in beating it back into the city for dance rehearsal then work (and clem’s birthday!) just knowing i’m leaving this concrete jungle is endorphin-releasing enough for me. i’m having living remotely fantasies again. oh boy.
+++
!!! adorable!
annebird Says:
May 10th, 2010 at 1:00 pm
I love Raymi, yes I do, she makes me feel happy, when I am prone to blue-
It’s already sounding corny, but corny’s not too bad
Cause Raymi’s kinda corny too – and Cute and Sweet and Rad
She tells it like it is, my friends, That’s what I like to hear. She’ll say what she is feeling, with a sneer, a smile, a tear… Her pictures crack me up a lot, and awe-inspiring clothes, —Her hair itself is famous now, her pretty eyes and nose…
ok that’s all i got
listen to that as loud as you possibly can. we were paralyzed by it saturday night on random. it takes you. i love that bass rumble, like something is about to happen then you realize that something is happening and it’s not what’s going to happen it’s that it’s happening. holy man i’ve been hanging around lots of hippies lately. new wave ones who indulge these goofy shitty deep things. writers. poets. artists. yeah life. yeah.
this song makes me think of you.
things i wrote down yesterday at mezzrow’s in my favourite booth by the frowning fish tank. 2010 is the year of hating yourself. well the rest is just gibberish and notes to self. we discussed sad things, my personal and absolute most favourite. it was a date. i have been on many but i think i am done with that for now. there’s been some toads. harsh title i fear. you get picky and then bitter. you humour them way too much. fuck there are so many prissy guys in toronto. divas. shit. i may as well date women.
last nite’s was kind of a breath of relief and of the catalogue of necessities and quality requirements in a man, high score. i’ll give him a pass. i’m very seinfeld i find. everyone starts out with 100% then progressively over the span of the evening their percentage grade drops, dips, rises, falls and so on until i have to decide whether i want to hang again or get down. dating suuucks. great for stories, great for alone time, but yeah. hunting. everything can be going along just fine then the guy says something purely stupid. judgmental. terrible. then beer goggles come right the fuck off and you are sort of devastated by the situation. like he’s so good looking, dresses nicely, but such a boring pompous pissing contest contestant. why why why? oh cool and now we’re going dutch? icing on the cake. no please do go on tell us about your work some more zzzz.
we listened to buckley and talked about new orleans. talked about the road, the actual one not the book, or film. a tour. a raymi tour what do you think about that? i’ll tell you the dates, the city, the venue. do you want to meet? i give good road. road head haha. i give good talk and i chronicle it all. i give good arm candy and spontaneity and story telling, lots of that last one. i give sentimental for moments that aren’t over yet like a motherfucker.
i am full of omega 3 granola and two pouches of oatmeal i am basically a wool sweater rainy sunday afternoon by a kitchen fire steamy lazy swollen sleep stung eyes early afternoon hug. i am a red scarf on the window ledge oh my god i am so on my period what a lesbian BYEEEEEE RUMMIES!
Do that Raymi tour you know you’ve got a room in the basement of the Politburo right here in the heart of Amsterdam, whenever you need.
All those pictures of you reminded me about something.
It involved me taking a train through Africa back in the 60s. I was tripping on Acid and decided to jump off the train right in the middle of lion country. I proceeded to take off my clothes and run through the plains to look for my fur covered man eating friends. Didn’t see any lions but I did get humped by a elephant. My hip has never been the same. Which reminds me that I have to go in for surgery next week to get my hip replaced. It has little to do with the elephant incident rather last week when I was on the subway, an African-Canadian fellow was asking me some questions and I didn’t understand what the fuck he was saying so I answered him in Uoojooboo, which is the language native to where I had the elephant incident. Uoojooboo involves a lot of strange facial expression so I guess my black brother (i’m not black, I’m jewish though I have a very small nose) thought I was making fun of him and he pushed me. I fell into the lap of a rather large woman, who incidentally was occupying two seats on the subway which I thought was quite inconsiderate considering how crowded the subway was. I proceeded to tell her about the diet of the Uoojoobooians which consists of joogar beans and stink bugs. They taste quite awful however contain lots of protein and the good kind of fat which I pointed out she’d probably been consuming the bad kinda fat and that she should consider the Uoojoobooian diet. All the time, I’m still lying rather contorted on her ample bosom. She proceeded to get up, pushing me off her cushin’ and then I fell to the subway floor. Hip still intact, I picked myself up only to trip on the turnstile on the way out of the subway, thus breaking my hip.
why is your mailing address (which is only visible to me) there in place of an email address? are you insane or just being “quirky”?
Hi Raymi… since October last year?!? I’m sorry I had no idea. I am nothing if not out of touch. I have been in hibernation since then… OK I see why the changes in image/life/etc … I send belated sympathy.
And no I don’t think your hair looks retarted.
PS I unearthed loads of entertaining titbits doing the digging…
man, i needed this entry right now. thank you.
Hey! Maybe you could do a tip-sheet for picking up dudes? You seem to excel at it which is awesome. Maybe some of this awesomeness can be shared? I realize that part of it comes down to you having a social butterfly of a life and large parts to being hot, but still. Any advice?
On it
Excellent post. And every time the Raymi painting shows up in your photos my heart fills with joy!
Joshua Jesserman is my new hero.
PART of it comes down to “being hot”?
..so that’s why its only hot girls that pick me up
i’ve been a pawn all my life
Pretty good post. Raymi tour might as well include NWO.
Trying to think of a good Northern boy for you, as you mentioned your locals are kind of princesses. They all know how to chop down trees and start fires and do guy stuff around here and none of them wear girl pants, but they’re kind of goofy and young. Will get back to you if I think of someone.
Wait, are you into clean-cut jazz guitarists who like records and have moved to Toronto to study music?
If the tour comes to Boston I’d be glad to treat you to a sushi-fest.
love you liz!
when i’m at mezzrows it’s always in that booth too. the fish seem sad.
i love how blonde the blonde is. i bet you spend time studying it, marvelling over its complete blondeness. this is not some sarcastic snide remark. i speak the truth; seeing how i’d feel about it. especially with most personal history as a non-blonde. ha. guh xo!
Love Bat for Lashes. In fact I just drove my boyfriend up the wall with Horse and I on repeat last weekend.