hold you close like we both died


took a broodington time out.

soho soda strawberry.

guess how many times i went to reach for my pencil only to grab the teeny raw paper pinner. then i was like why am i not smoking this that’ll clear the confusion up straight away. wish i brought my fake-out definition paper to blog.

my mom leaves her spectacles everywhere.

tim burton breakfastesque.

thanks mom!

Hey Raymi, my name is Nicole, I have been reading your blog for about five years now (I can’t believe it’s been that long, and you don’t know me WTF). I don’t know how you put up with the shit you do on the blog, nevermind your own criticisms of self and such, you gotta deal with preachers and idiots and people who are not living but think they know how you should live so they speel all this shit which is laughable for a time but would begin to actually make me crazy if I were in your shoes. I have so much respect for you just being able to come back to the site, let alone still show your edited life. You must get this all the time, however I truly relate to you and can see the shits even when you don’t say it. I gots the depression, had it since I was fourteen without even really realising it. All depressed people seem to think, at first, that it’s just how life is, a vast, silent shadow over everything, having to carry a corpse around with you everywhere, eventually you just stop going places because it’s too much weight to carry (this is where Sam comes in to carry Frodo). It led me headlong into alcoholism, anorexia and bulimia, anything to make noise, to distract me from the deathly quiet and despair. I know you talked quite a bit before on your blog about sadness, mental illness, such and such addictions, etc. But you are fairly quiet about it now, and I just want to ask if you are okay, I mean, really. You don’t know me, but do we ever really know anybody? You have been such a massive inspiration to me, someone I look to when I’m feeling anything (happy, sad, frustrated, bored), you’re almost like a drug, a good one, which I can’t get enough of, haha creepy. But I can see that lately your humor has seemed somewhat forced, you seem exhausted and ghostly, not in your appearance but just the feeling I get from the writing. I hope this hasn’t come out in any sense to offend you, my intent was to just let you know that I love you even though I don’t know you and even though the internet can be so superficial and fake, you are one of the few who are real, and always will be, and my heart goes out to your courage and beauty and honesty. It would be something to see you in love with life. With a handshake, have a damn alright afternoon.

in a huge way, depression is a wonderful thing. if you didn’t have that sadness at your heels what on earth else could possibly motivate you to do life-enriching things to be content? yes it gets exhausting but it’s a challenge, it keeps it interesting. i feel like if i were to ever approach a point where-in i had everything i could ever possibly want, desire, i’d still be sad. unfulfilled. unhappy. so just go with it. learn to love it. don’t let it consume you cos that’s just lazy and unacceptable. if i can power through it anyone can. white people problems as they so politically-incorrectly say. sad is a luxury.

i have a soft pink hard on. oh man haha i mean, soft baby pink is something i can really get behind as it’s the opposite of what i was all about as a teenage dirtbag. now, bring it on. i feel like i can stop time if i keep it feminine.

my darling melodie meticulously hot glued blue sequin pasties for me while i did my age of aquarius wardrobe. burning yourself with hot glue suuucks. it sticks and just keeps burning you. i have a bad blister on a finger i picked at (of course).

sometimes my room feels like under the umbrella tree. do you know this piece of canadiana television nostalgia reference? jacob gloria iggy hahaha.

my old h&m nude bathing suit bottoms. wearing that on the beach faking people out like i’m all nakes. olga saw me at a garage sale once and exclaimed I THOUGHT RAYMI WAS NAKED. now it’s all anne geddes‘d out. ew. no offense but babies are kind of disgusting especially dozing all enchanted-like on flowers, in flowers, flowerpots… 1990 is over in case you forgot. talk to me when you’re two. nah nah, just chubby babies. lazy slobs.

this got left behind at revival.

i don’t know about this forced humour our friend nicole is getting at. this is how i talk. yeah i throw a stupid rasta spin on shit to be a bit of an obnoxious cock here and there but really, i’ve got nothing left to give. i’m living my life in the real world. doing more, showing less. make assumptions, guestimations, anything you like. i’m spent. i have zero time to myself i have been running on empty for months. i am miserable and i am happy and i am stressed. i feel like i am doing all of the wrong things. i just wanted to peace out of blogging for a bit. if i’m not here i’m out living and tweeting out of boredom. i’m hunting but i don’t know what for. so many things have occurred over the past whatever and i don’t know where to begin.

one funny thing though or rather, just an observation. an anecdote. i feel a bit of a disconnect from blogging, i’ve been phoning it in for a little bit now but anyway i’m out at work or with friends, strangers, then some insidious horrible comment will come through or an email and it’s like what the fuck, really? you’re still on me? i’m of the mindset that if i’m busy, so should be everyone else. if i’m idle then i create more, write more, blog, more and assume everyone’s the same. not so. you go get a life and it pisses lots of people off. they want more. fine.

a lot of people disappointed me for not turning up to the show i feel as though you don’t really deserve to see footage of it in a way. my blog is a luxury to our one-sided relationship. all relationships should be reciprocal. ours isn’t so, fuck you.

it’s really strange having multiple of thousands reading you daily, watching, waiting, some of those people being your good pals. you go support their shit, or whatever, you blog, they read it, and then assume we’re all squared away, caught up when really i don’t know shit about their lives, they make no effort with me. each post is like a hey what’s up please leave a message at the tone voicemail. i am here with open arms, welcoming. always for the most part so when you hammer away at people hey this shit is going on please come, they make ten thousand excuses, warranted or not, it’s still shitty. i mean don’t get me wrong, the house was packed, every seat was spoken for and there was a lot of people standing room only but it woulda been nice to see some more familiar faces scattered in there. part of it is post-show blues and part of it is i am taking a motherfucking time out. i put a lot of time money and effort and work into it, is all i’m saying so don’t ask me about it right now thank you. ok i’ll stop whining now.

sometimes i’ll be alone on my bike with jeff buckley in the sun and just feel so amazing. so amazing. or i’ll just be alone and feel like i have the entire world. i’ll have a nice smoothie and amble around and smile at as many people as possible. singing too, still singing. biking and singing hipster trap tunes and that’s how you get your rubberneckers.

speaking of i need to not wear pants around burlington more often. ego stroke city. i don’t care how fucking arrogant this sounds, i make an effort to look nice it’s nice to see it appreciated not like here where you get checked out in secret which is why i’m going to cruise a dating site with a private account. i can’t keep picking up people on the street, or bars. so much effort expended and then things are going smoothly until they blow it then you have to start all over again and it makes you feel insane.

someone wants a guide to picking up dudes. here it is: talk to them. give them your number. ask if they are single. you can tell pretty much straight away if they are feeling you. how do you tell this? if they look at you and let you bust them checking you out: green light. if you see the same cat around a few bars and he’s checking you out, go up to him. guys will hang themselves pretty quick, the first red flag sign you get means you should back off but of course no one ever does. usually it’s 5 more red flags and you’re still drinking through it. be bold and brazen but not too “yourself” not too free-spirited i dunno, don’t act but don’t reveal it all. like i have amazing tan lines which is always a bonus once and if we hit some closed quarters. do i tell the broseph about them? no, hmm, but i should. maybe i’ll put that in my dating profile. moving on.

i’m looking for more essentially, but not totally looking, it kind of just happens. i can’t remember a life before not engaging with strangers. i kept my eyes on the pavement walking from A to B and let the shyness take me and what an awful waste of time that was. as a loyal girlfriend and fiance i didn’t even want the temptation or to entertain anything at all when ultimately flirting is a massive means to save your relationship. i was such a fool. i can’t see being the person i was before ever again. i don’t even know how that life was even possible. i am astounded. everything was so mapped out and now everyday is a brand new adventure who the fuck knows what’s next. i live like i am going to die tomorrow. if i’m not blogging i’m skipping around town. good weather makes blog hits go down anyway so why bust my ass?

oh and here’s an announcement i’ll type in caps lock:

I HAVE TEN PAIRS OF TICKETS FOR FYFE TO GIVE AWAY FOR HIS MAY 23 SHOW AT THE EL MO email me if you want a hook-up. if you pass my coolness test i may get you a drink too. this song has me sold.

check yous later. as for me, i’ll be l i v i n’.

oh and ps. here’s another thing that just occurred to me, the more i blog, the less i eat, the skinnier i am. the less i blog, the more i eat, the flabbier i am. blogging = skinny. fact.

this is how we do it

!!tomorrow 8pm revival come see the harlettes. no ifs ands or buts.

finished making my age of aquarius outfit and now i think i’m addicted to hot gluing shit on shit. tomorrow i have to shred up a shirt for one of our numbers.

ate/drank face off at cafe taste tonite. doesn’t even feel like a saturday. i’m so tired. oh god i’m turning into one of those women rob keeps complaining about. exhausted city chicks. blargh.

Sweaty Mercury

soo tanned right now.

went to the annex wreckroom with alicia, hayley, and nina last nite for like 40 minutes after being cut from work holy crap does that place ever suck. like, take the most asinine geeky ridiculous not getting it people ever stick ‘em in a room with shitty music and BAM, what the hell is going on? had to fight a weirdo for two seconds of stripper pole picture posing relax guy NOBODY is looking at you dance on that thing, no one wants to see your junked out crush fucked hand slippy seductive sensual disgustingly sweaty mating dance. stop it right now. then i climbed the thing and everyone realised the game had been brought and then they all thought they were as acrobatic and nimble as i. not so. some near face plants almost occurred.

as always though i had a hell of a time being the best dancer in the room. of course. hip hop dance party soon alicia san.

i realised i don’t ever go out out so when i’m in a new scene i’m all bug-eyed taking in my surroundings like this is what a friday nite is like, i’m typically working. oh fuck i have so much to do today i have to get faux flowers and make nipple pasties out of them and matching bottoms. reconstruct (deconstruct?) a hippie dress. maybe find new shoes cos those pieces of shit one of the straps of is about to blast off. fuck. ok see you next century. yesterday ruled. whatever i don’t have time to blog you can lurk on my flickr or as always i light it up pretty frequently on twitter.

one show a nite guys, autographs in the lobby. xo amigettes.

hello internet life


oh hi there just a quickie to say hi and i’ll be right back. going through two day’s worth of photos. i feel as though i never have time to myself and i’m always saying that or insinuating it to whomever and they’re like um i see you like never. everyone is just melding into one person to me these days so i’m all oh, right, well, sorry. i still won’t sleep with you though. ha ha ha ha err…

bought some amazing honey with comb in it. can you consume the wax part? it’s totally wax. kinda interesting kinda ew what is this in my mouth?

my period is taking forever. it’s so strange, i guess it’s my iud and i am so sick of talking about it. mostly i just hate my body right now because of it and i’m just waiting to be all flushed out and skinny as a whip again. if i’m not body happy then i’m nothing happy. i weighed myself at my dad’s, huge mistake.

i have to work in these dance heels and see if i can conceivably dance in them. i wish i could just wear my wedge mary janes but chesty hates them. i can black out dance in them no problem.

putting band-aids on my feet the second i hit publish and going to dry my laundry wearing these and thermal pants. hot look. very parkdale. the men in the store on rocessvailles were all up in my space and i’m like look dudes i need to try out some moves so step back. then i did some kicks and twirls and steps and crap i’m pretty sure they thought i was a stripper.

clem’s birthday gongfest. he needs to work on his aim. i think he does it on purpose actually, everyone just gets covered in sticky booze.

rob and i got ripped last nite, respectively so. no hangover. we had a dance and tunes party. the guy lives right around the corner. we barfly together when we can. building a community of sorts in the hood. finally met al his good friend who lives right across the street from us (email me!) and who also knows everybody in parkdale.

why won’t facebook let me change my bloody profile picture? i’m pretty irritable today, everything’s fine, i tidied up, sorted out some stuff, whatever happy enough doin’ my thing and then that little hiccup put me over the edge. stupid.

sliced up some strawberries, will put honey over them and bananas and special k five grain whatever cereal and yogurt. i like omega 3 better but it’s good for a change. if i eat the same thing everyday i get depressed. speaking of, i am so eating my feelings lately. i am a machine. i guess if you want to consume all the time you’re filling some void or another, trying to, that, or metabolism is out of control.

i bike i burlesque i walk i bartend and serve i am always moving and i have at least 3 caffeinated beverages daily. typically more. i smoke weed so there’s those munchies.

yesterday i drank my easy milkshake in a minute and the thing was about the size of a movie theatre pop and i got them to put espresso in it. i have before and after pictures of course. i chose grilled tomatoes and poached eggs to balance it out lightly. i find the more strange the meal, the more fulfilled i am and the more fulfilled, the less needy, the less searching for satiation which is absolute bullshit cos i don’t think i’ll be done searching until i am dead.

here’s everything i put inside me yesterday:

massive milkshake
2 poached eggs
3 grilled tomatoes
some more coffee
rum ball
rum pineapple drink
polish tallboy
green tea
pound of wings
white wine/orange
1/3 bottle of red wine (would of had more if rob wasn’t such an irish beast)
olive cheese red pepper smoked salmon plate

ok that was boring sorry i’ll try not to do that all the time. essentially right now eating is my boyfriend, it’s what i think about a lot. i eat so many bananas i think i have to tone it down. it’s great for being regular and all but just now something painful happened so i better relax.

how do you like the parkdale no frills, a little bit of an experience that yeah? haha. harry’s diner is great though. i love me a good scene. old men drinking at like 2 in the afternoon. i’m none to judge as i periodically wake ‘n bake.

ok i’ll stop talking now byeeee.

i wore this shirt the last time i went there. i have a habit now of wearing certain shirts (outfits) months later to the same place. everyone for sure totally remembers.

ps. this weather is bullshit.

who IS coming to this business on sunday night? NOT LIKE IT’S IMPORTANT TO ME OR ANYTHING! $5 off if you say you’re with raymi aka lida hosen. Beauty School

a tan from standing in the english rain

the neighbourhood lawn mower boy here is fascinating. he is autistic. touched. super friendly, happy, optimistic. hard working. loves rocky (our cat). my dad and brother are good to him. he routinely does the lawn, hedges, snowblows the driveway in winter. comes back to blow the lawn cuttings away. good kid. his parents come to help out too. they do the entire street and must be raking it in. PUN TOWN. he is like 20 maybe older possibly. makes you wonder about those types, destined to be alone or maybe have an unrealistic amazing adventurous life like forrest gump? hopefully. he’s actually quite attractive too.

i ate like a pig yesterday. last day of such shitty indulgence until dance rehearsal this coming sunday MAY 16th at REVIVAL i better see all you lunatics there afterward we get down and revival becomes our own dancehall. super fun and hugely how i became a harlette, i feel. showed off my moves i did and it was kinda funny cos my ex’s good old pal was there and so was red flag and i could tell old pal was having moral struggle with whether he should engage with me or not meanwhile ex and i are cool enough and he is well-informed of all my mystical bullshit anyway here i am motown hustlin’ my hung ass off, it was just a funny scene and i really really wanted to burlesque dance with these girls. so i got in. you’ve been following all along anyway so you’ve seen the psychotic evolution and now you get a chance to witness and experience in real life too. say you’re raymi’s fan and you’ll get $5 off at the door.

either my life is bizarre or i am.

taught my dad what the term crush fucked means (super stoned/drunk combination thereof). funny he mentioned it on his own while we were dining at chap’s. i had the southern sweet potato poutine and jalapeno cheddar sausage smokies, and a coors light. he had the chicken and ribs special. gawked at our surroundings and the clientele while watching les habitants rip it up. lots of people give up in the suburbs BUT they at least interact with one another unlike isolating toronto.

i notice a difference in the coffee, i’m drinking maxwell house and buzzing like a fly around the house. at home we have organic. the chemical difference is well, stronger for sure. i already drink poison diet redbull often so maybe if i make a personal bean change i’ll become more productive, burn out quicker, sooner to bed and sooner to rise.

i am so glad i came out here i needed this mini-staycation and plan to do it every week.

please rain hold off at least until i get to work. it’s clem’s birthday. gonna be a right piss-up. told him i have no idea how we all have functioning livers.

ooh gotta go that’s baby you’re a rich man blasting on the stereo time to dance it out.

i love you sincerely, know this well.

wow shit i just ate two massive globs of wasabi on supermarket sushi that was an intense moment just there. damn it’s starting to rain. off to train. bike. shower. dance. work.

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!