i want your ugly i want your disease
scott i have your tie (still). guy comes over last summer to hang but also to specifically collect this jesus tie to wear onstage while performing in his screamo whatever the fuck band (what are you guys called again?) anyway, it fell off him on the way out the door. scott rules. i dare you to try and decipher his blog. we went to high school together and i used to refer to him as the jesus cos he had the grossest beard ever and long hippie hair and dressed like a total skid. he’s fucking hysterical too. he’s a streetsville legend which is also hysterical. when he goes back to town (from montreal) he has to go in all stealth lest a bunch of wieners show up on his lawn demanding another house party. one of these epic shit shows i went to was the last time i saw louis, who died of meningitis in a spanish hostel. in his sleep. fucked no. anyway, i like to get drunk and cry about it sometimes. louis was in a bunch of my classes and he was a genuinely nice guy, cute, quiet. laughed at my shit which is numero uno in getting on my good side town. i bring it up every time i see scott wow so sharey right now. i also punched a girl at that party, who asked me to. several times in the jaw. she gave me her kurt sweater that i still wear, said she’d like to visit it sometime maybe. her hair was wild. the cops came to that party but didn’t go inside, just parked out front drinking coffees. all the kids stuffed their drugs into backpacks in a frenzy. bands were playing in the basement and scott’s parents were away. so funny. we stayed up drinking til the sun came up, then went swimming, then to golden griddle. it was an amazing time. i saw all my old friends from high school after a year of being away in brooklyn and LA and crazy. omg next picture sorry.
this sweater.
i also hid in the trunk of sobia’s car to surprise sandra picking her up from the go station. i was wearing this bright fluorescent orange kaftan from the gap and came out like a big bright flash and sandra almost had a heart attack. no one knew i’d be in town.
scott got punched by a gino waiting for this chick he was interested in coming to one of his parties and when she finally got there the cops had scott handcuffed (maybe?) totally bloody on the front lawn and his reaction was just like, whatsup? scott you are going to get so much poon-tang now you fucking owe me.
favourite japanese place yet in burlington. sakai. go to it.
they have WASH ROOMS.
fish tempura dish sent over on the house. it was amazing. i left my card. i think the waitress was confused. so were we.
never order two, it’s so much food.
spicy lobster roll. wicked. before this we had the sashimi appetizer.
wow fascinating cool. just finished writing article, post, what do you call it? so that’s all for now, party time! it’ll go up this afternoon or tomorrow.
Hey Raymi,
So, I’ve been reading your blog for years now, sometimes with absolute attention, sometimes with fleeting interest, always with a smile. I’ve written a couple of daft poems. Made the occasional dafter comment.
I hadn’t been on the site for a couple of months, for reasons that are too dreary to even begin to go into, before checking in today. Now, I don’t know you in any real sense and yet, like it or not, you’ve become like a friend. The intimacy of the story we see, the detail, the everyday energy, it’s all become a suprsingly potent proxy for actual closeness.
This in mind, I just wanted to send the tiniest bit of feeling to you, as much as seems appropriate, or makes any sense given that we’ve never spoken, over your split with Phil. I hope you are not feeling utterly, unbearably bad. I hope it’s not insanely painful.
That’ll do, I suppose. Stupid empty words really. You get the point. Which I’ll spell out anyway. It’s fucking bizarre, but I care about your life and want it to be good and so I write this email as a suttering expression of just that feeling.
Best wishes,
RMC
one thing i forgot to mention yesterday but had on my mind all day. my grandfather was in intelligence in WWII, vision too poor to be a pilot so he briefed those bomb droppers on their way out. big ups to the veterans.
awwwwwwwwwwww RMC…you’re so sweet.
and i can say that lauren is as lovely in person as she is on the web.
xoxo
HKD
I don’t think RMC’s words were stupid or empty, I think they were kind and thoughtful.
is that apricot beer i see? *choke*
yes it is. sigh. are there any good local wineries up there? HAHAHAHBAHAHA
hav u ever considered doing a food critic gig on the side? good dough free food.
i will do anything on the side i am a whore
Ach, you are looking a little like your mother now. Carl Jung said it right about the psychological aspect of the Kore.
Looks like good grub.
vi
you look like a little lesbian. i look like myself. also, my mom’s a babe.
Well, *ahem* mebbee I AM a lesbian.
bibimbap is Korean, not Japanese. delicious either way.
kudos to this post. especially for the food porn. yummm.
I don’t know you but you seem good and fun and I’m sure you deal with a lot of bullshit readers harping on whatever you do whether it’s good or bad or nothing at all.
I like reading comments when people are writing you good stuff. Everyone deserves that – especially people like you that are putting things out there. It’s easy to hide in the shadows – kudos to you for even being able to deal with the idiots and bullshit.
Yay Raymi!
alex – it’s a japanese/korean resto thanks captain correctlor. we had three japanese things, 1 korean thing.
Is that Sriracha sauce on that dish with the fried egg on top???
yes so good!
Not Sriracha, Gochujang. Korean!
I’ll echo those sentiments, minus the gratuitous self-deprecation.
I don’t know how you do what you do. Which makes it interesting.
R.
a hope, a belief system that is beginning to make less and less sense to me.
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