having a chat about love vs money with a gal right now. i told her i was recently told to marry for money, not love. fuck love, they said. she agreed with that. i don’t. i’ll wait to be jaded for when i’m actually jaded. she said the older you get the more you crave comfort and security. “forces of desire wear down on ideals of romance.” i say for now i’m enjoying my gypsy wanton ways. i’m drifting kinda. initially i said my mom/uncle were bummed i didn’t leave with the pilot. she said her parents were angry she didn’t become a trophy wife she married for love to which i replied yeah love is the reason we are here. that’s the meaning of life everyone keeps scratching their heads about. so effortless and true. she goes, so confounding and complex as well. money kills love. then i reference the being told to marry for money by the red flag. ten million red flags later much?

so we all want money yet we are obsessed with movies about love.

getting loads of mileage out of this hat some drunk left at work.

i cannot exist without loving someone or something. it just isn’t possible. i don’t consider myself romantic at all but i know i have a deep heart and i fall in love every three seconds. the heart is always hunting. but i’m hot and cold. i enjoy company but i super dig my alone time. like right now for instance i’m layin’ around in my underwear (had to put a shirt on there’re hipsters out on the roof next door wonder how long til they know they’ve a nudist view) in my sunny ass room window open very warm coffee lounge smokey-headed. this is fine. even sleeping alone too. i’m getting into that. i still sleep on one side of the bed though. taking up as minimal space as possible but when i have a bunk buddy i am up all over that. someone must study sleep behaviour like horoscopes. what does that say about me? needy, clingy. most likely.

i was such a tomboy growing up but i am so attracted to soft pink now. teenage me would baaarf all over now-me laughing. stoner calling me barbie the other day got me going a little. please child at my age you want to look like barbie, trust me, not crazily-dreadlocked street raggamuffiny. just sayin’. however the dreads if they look clean and well-maintained enough are ok by me. i’m breaking some of my rules all over the place.

but goin’ back to money now. i need to be wealthy so i can buy frivolous shit such as this. i’ll tell you, life as a blonde now, totally different world. you can get away with practically anything. get someone to carry you something for an entire toronto city block if you wanted to. (ps. here our blocks are actual blocks not street-lengths away that essentially are the size of my bedroom).

i like melodie’s better. my mom said this was tacky. guess how i reacted to that.

i die.

melodie and i are going to do this to many other t-shirts. this, i bought like this.

massive opening in the back, dips pretty low.

the pilots were feelin’ this, those are not them in the bg. hilarious night. tell you about it another time. hello fellas if you’re reading.

Hi Raymi

I hope you’re well. I am writing to you because my government worksite has finally decided to block you from being loaded onto my computer. They say it’s porn. What rubbish! I’m addicted to reading your blog, and I heard that your blog has been copied onto another site that is not blocked. If you know of this site’s url, could you please reply to this email with it. And do it quick, because I’m getting withdrawl symptoms.
By the way, are you still single?

Single yes. Other site ive never heard of, where did u hear that?

Raymi

A workmate of mine assured me that there was another website that relayed your blogs. He showed it to me, but like an idiot I forgot to bookmark it. It wasn’t blocked late last year, but it may be by now.
Unfortunately, due to some unfortunate personal circumstances, I don’t have access to a computer outside work, so I guess I’ll just have to bite the bullet and get access to one outside work. Yours is the only blog I read, so it doesn’t take too long to read it. I hope you’re going OK, because I feel I’ve really got to know you through your blog. It’s great to know that there are still ladies like you who are single.

How very flattering. Good luck finding it again. Im going to blog your emails. -raymbo

do you guys know what this guy is talking about? interesting.

i missed my family. was kinda blue on the train ride back. didn’t get to spend as much time with all of them as much as i’d liked to of, next week or something i’ll go out again. commuting wipes you the hell out especially when you schedule something between two other somethings. just bailed on dance rehearsal cos i think i’ll have a wig out if i push myself any fucking further today.

i’ve been trying to figure out what to put inside this locket for the longest time. joked yeah probably a photo of myself, why fuck around here right?

then i got a way better idea. hail mary full of grace the lord is with thee. kinda weird i know every single catholic prayer. hello useless!

you know when you have so many things to share, stories to tell, it all just cancels itself out on you. don’t even know where to begin or if i should even bother? i feel like a total whiner right now. gross.

so unbelievably frazzled right now. so tired. so half awake. running on empty. haven’t stopped in weeks it feels. i need a time out.

ha ha so emo. turned away a lush last nite. some asshole lifted chelsea’s ipod. disgusting.

nothin’ like a new suit to turn it all around though. hip scrape bonus.

you should see the reject photos. or not. i have no bathingsuit pose game. that bag of chips on my side dresser are pretty undelicious. if i don’t plow through something in 30 seconds without breathing, you know it’s a flop. india’s magic masala flavour, from my new favourite bodega thanks to rob.

can it just be summer now please?

here is a shitty picture of my ass and uv vodka plug.

this was just an in-betweener post. i’ll dazzle you in a bit. things get going a little slower ’round these parts when your brain is functioning at the speed of a skittle.

i fucked up and didn’t link to the evelyn room correctly down there so go pay them a visit thanks bye!

interesting times my (pseudo)(non)(sort of) friends.

seventeen degrees in a november forest from raymi lauren on Vimeo.

directed by Britt De Lara and music by The Evelyn Room starring this dickhead. shot by James Hellyer.

remember this day?

haha i like that someone came here by googling “i am stoned”. brother, you are in the right place. watch dem girl go. walked my ass across the entire city home my feet are sore but i loved every bit of it. could it have been a more gorgeous day? of course. totally cured me of all late evening debauch guilted feelings. yesterday was so bloody expensive. dance rehearsal was great, learned the can can, then hit ronnies. then dakota. then then. bumped into trish, hadn’t seen her in ages. we go back to elementary, though she only remembers me from high school cos i was a little wiener. she ran around with my brother. speaking of i have to hoof it to b-town to see those peoples of mine. the family. my brother is totally pissed i got him expensive shoes now he feels obligated to match the gift. whatever man you’re my brother and i love you, relax. about time to wear some cool shoes now anyway.

emma (chesty larue) the amazing harlettes choreographer extraordinaire.

before i cleaned up my act last nite.

i know, hey? my nana would DIE in here.

phillip on the right has a fucking steel rod in his leg, was hobbling around with a crutch. kinda gangster. would have absolutely none of my bullshit regarding my fucked knee, which was pretty hard to dance on yesterday, sigh, but i did it anyway. he and his gf were looking over the old bloggo and he kept saying how much they dug on my thrashed tights. i want to meet this chick.

pre-emptive drooling over the f21 gift card about to hit my back pocket. maybe will hit the one in mapleview mall tomorrow before coming back to city to avoid yonge/dundas square insanity. so much more space in the burbs. ahhh. can’t wait for lady gaga cat calls. happens way too much.

front sun porch.

i look to be missing way too many body parts here.

how no sleep does this look? visined the shit out of my peepers and that caffeine under eye roller thinger.

i look like an irritating teenager and i live like one.

i’d tell you to tell me to break a leg but i fear that that might actually happen.

i’ll be seein’ yas!