so after japanese it was time for a tan. the salon i favour had this really young un-smart chick working the front counter. once we were done making fun of the chav-looking dude in the front we go in. sidenote: aren’t tanning salons like the weirdest atmospheres ever? just a hallway of rooms with naked people in them desperately wanting to enhance the appearance of their bodies and everything is decorated like hawaii plus the most cheesed-out posters of tanned bronzed saved by the bell styled beach people grinning down at you. basically LOVE the shit. this is pretty much how the convo with tan girl goes, like two brick walls talking it was, on account of her low-iq and my being gunned.
me: hi is a super bed available? (assumed general standard known industry term for HIGHEST WATTAGE BULB bed. shorter time required for a darker tan i mean, DUH).
her: i don’t know what that bed is.
me: (totally confused) silent staring. uhm. ok.
her: silent staring
dave: SILENT
me: ok so whatever you call ‘em, turbo beds?
her: i don’t know what that is
me: (holy shit is this happening i am too baked for this non-conversation right now desperately hoping, waiting to bump into a smart person) uh ok so like the strongest bed you know? turning to dave for help…
dave: (is a statue)
me: (wild eyed, look to girl as well as chalkboard behind her head scanning for what i am trying to express what i want)
her: (BALL FINALLY DROPS) royal bed?
me: YES
the rest of the conversation is pointless. i just felt like a prisoner trapped in a stupid vortex. time stood still like that cop who called 911 when he and his wife ate weed brownies except i didn’t think i was dying, time just went by really really slow.
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.
we were discussing how someone paid for dave to get his FAC (Firearm Acquisition Certificate) license, he nearly completed the course then dropped out/quit realising there was no point in acquiring it as he would never shoot an animal and if he were to ever use a firearm it would be to (theoretically) shoot a human in which case he’d be going to jail anyway therefore, a gun license is pointless.
i forgot the rest of the funny point i was going to wrap that all up in.
had great japanese tonite and bi bim bap (hi lise!) and the chef sent over the most amazing seafood tempura dish ever on the house just cos i was snapping pictures or because the awesome emanating from my general direction was hypnotizing. thanks saiki! went for a tan, jammin’ out to she wolf on the zune and love sex magic now it’s mini xmas gingerbread cookie men monopoly this drink time wow stoner post rules.
i was going to do a sake bomb redux but for some reason cold sake is double the price out here. not cool. LITERALLY.
the city when u come back feels so different and u feel so i dont give a fuck about it and it feels so good. it feels, i have no idea how to describe it, it just feels. in every sense, in every hippie way. once you leave a bubble you can breathe again. things that felt important to you, no longer do. if i need to be in the city for work or meetings, interviews, it can be done. i don’t feel like i’m on neptune anymore. i was removed from the crush long ago.
just remembered the free meal card st. louis waitress gave me and trying not to over-analyze (megalomaniacally) reasons behind it. i’m also no longer going to apologetically front like i don’t love st. louis (wings not the place)(though i’ve never been i’m sure it’s fine) because i do.
a fly decided to land and die on a freshly painted canvas the second i walked away to wash the brush. (emo panda painting sold, not finished yet though).
ps have been winning bailey’s battle. too lazy to be a drunk even. cool. (that bottle has since been killed).
quoting @unbrelievable (amazing hair btw you look like nicole richie. HOT!) keep your chin up – you don’t want any double chins. BAHAHA niyce.
do NOT rent Management (jen aniston/steve zahn) it is NOT a romcom it is a pile of confusing what the fuck am i watching shit awful SHIT WTF you feel held hostage for 1 hour until you muster up the courage to turn it off. honestly you kinda need to experience it to get what i’m saying.
bailed on scotch tasting bowling instead nachos pitcher gunned
yes @seriouslyrad Year One pretty much blew it. cera’s comedy saved it and supporting cast. jack black needs to retire that dead horse (of a shtick).
walkd out on purchases at gas station merchant was rude
unseasonably warm nite settin’ out in the yard. rented year one. (ok getting tired of linking to these you get that i’m pulling these winners from my twitter feed)
just molested leftover half of blackened catfish caesar wrap.
tossed beer cap at bathroom garbage just now, missed, had to reach deep down into bowl almost to elbow! water wasn’t yellow thankfully.
it’d b cool if they turned the music on when don cherry talked so u wouldnt have to hear him talk.
watched half of 8 below last nite starring that actor shittier than keanu reeves. basically keanu reeves-lite. stressful emo movie.
sometimes i only know the date by looking at my blog.
the internet just caught on that i do not actually reside at 123 Penis Lane. i have 5 days to fix it by or my domain is canceled. thanks!
suburban people reacting to me is interesting it adds an extra dose of am i crazy to the am i crazy i already have going on
i am elegant, more so than a gazelle or a finishing school graduate
just looked at my phone bill. LE GASP.
we are all islands lost at sea and get in our own way
flickr, my online existence is useless without you.
beck lyric possible tattoo: love is a poverty you couldn’t sell – right forearm
in orillia lying by water under fall leaves at a cottage homesick for a moment b4 it’s over
note to self: get good tweezers
here’s a non-thrill, delete a track off itunes WHILE LISTENING TO IT.
now i must write an article about my stupid life. cheers pals!
how much fucking investigating do these idiot reporters even do, first im enraged they show zero respect for either of your actual feelings, yours are the ones i care about mind you, i do however find it hilarious how they rip on your writing and obviously have NOT checked who your relatives are, fucking hell Mr. Jack (to me) must be rolling over in his grave at these fucks. i have so much respect for the decision to write how you’ve always written since the break up, it isn’t the ‘raymi the minx’ i know to rip all over something that personal, you have your ways the long timers know that. it is always the shit you DON’T give a shit about that you rip all over if it doesn’t work out or pisses you off or is just plain fucking stupid. gusgreeper
and
Hi!
Your Burlington life is way cooler than my life would be, were I in Burlington.
I know you’ve been getting shitloads more attention lately, so I hope you’re not put off by this request, but I want to write a column on relationships gone public. And how it can sometimes be weird or problematic. Like being at a restaurant and seeing a couple being all PDA-ish but then they have a few drinks too many and then they’re all fighting and screaming at each other and shit and then they break up on the spot. And everyone watching is like “Oh, awkward!”
You know?
Anyway. I don’t require an interview, nor do I need you to do any work. I just would like your permission to lift a paragraph from your blog for my column. It’s the one image that sticks in my mind in all of this: your separate online spheres. Being lonely in a relationship. Putting forth this glammed-up, super happy front that is a lie, or at least a bit of truth-stretching.
Sorry this is so fucking stream of consciousness, my blood sugar is low.
I hope you’re doing well. I admire you more lately than ever.
i have read your column before
i am quite proud of you
anyway.
i know you’re all getting tired of this. i’ve been over myself years ago though i did secretly hope, anticipate, more recognition some day but, i dunno. when it happens it’s crazy. especially if you are sensitive. the article i must focus on now i fear will only bring comment suicide to my door. but it’s going to be writ with or without me so i’ve been given an opportunity to say it first myself. i’m not sure i can take any more abuse though. you just have to suck it up if you ever have any intention of being in the spotlight, i suppose. i wish i was stronger. at what point do you know to keep going and when to stop? dive in, sink, swim? i say swim. if you’ve never dived before then that’s a damn shame.
i love lady gaga so much right now she is so brave i want to be her.
AGAIN kate. again trying to glom some attention off my back (too lazy to find the other post i previously blasted you in). hawhaha. i am NOT required reading for you and i will ALWAYS be all over the internet so just shut your eyes. or find more internet (there’s lots out there).
4. I was never satisfied with Toronto blogger Raymi the Minx (who, now unengaged to her man/co-documentarian Phil Ogynist, is all over the Globe and the internet). Like most of my friends, I am interested, in both sick and justifiable ways, in the photoblogged accounts of other women’s lives. We want to see outfits, boyfriends, interior-decorating decisions, parties, hair. And Raymi dished out all of that, all the time, for ages. But, my most significant peeve about blogging, Twitter. et al is the amount of undue bragging that goes on. “Look at my rad new kitchen!” I’m instructed, only to click on a shot of a very average, very normal, very unworthy-of-a-click kitchen, or cake, or bike, or whatever. Such is Raymi. For every sexy, intriguing photo, there’s one of an Ikea bedspread; for every weird and interesting night out, there’s dinner in the Annex. Maybe I’m missing the overall effect of the ongoing, studied documentation, but if I’m going to devote any time to downloading photos of someone else’s life, it needs to be more exciting than my own.
whenever in the fuck did i say i had a rad new kitchen? this isn’t my house. it’s called transition. sorry i can’t move into the Ritz for the sake of your bored obligatory interest in my life. who the fuck are you anyway? i didn’t even know about your vapid reference to me until one of your online publication’s competition (who looooooove you btw)(snicker) contacted me about it. you are just another blatantly un-self-aware no one writing about someone for someone else. (does that feel empty?) then you went classist. COOL STORY KATE. i’ll let you know when i next go to salvation army and east side mario’s. ps. maybe if you learned to make your life appear to be more exciting than it is you wouldn’t have to make wimpy cattiness attempts about other people’s lives (living spaces). why make my non-news, news? you make no fucking sense.
i could be blogging from a box and it’d be diamonds in fact i made a post once entitled: segliuwegeuwigub and the body simply said FART. it received over 50 comments. can you type fart and get high fives for it?
it’s funny to me that i am bigger in toronto upon having left it.
update: she wrote to me. i am less pissed off now but i am not removing this post.
i’m going to be speaking at ryerson in a couple weeks. i have all these questions (outline) to go over to prepare a talk and then most likely lapse into a Q&A style exchange. i asked the prof “am i going to get snarky smart-allecky quips from toronto shit kids?” i only asked because it has been something of habit to call me out on not seeking higher-education, choosing my own path for “making it” for not going the route everyone else felt necessary. i think of all the people who have become successful and never even graduated high school. you’re not supposed to go there though. don’t upset the herd. cos not everyone’s dreams come to fruition even if they blew $40+k on schooling. i’ve always been much of a true believer that you are born with it, it cannot be learned. i don’t like forced. i hate seeing parents insist upon making their child fit into holes they don’t fit in to. you must be this, you must do that. barf.
i am not saying that i have made it in any shape or form. i don’t think i will ever be satisfied with myself. i feel like i will always be running uphill with cement shoes on. but still. i gave a talk on how to be famous on the internet once (paid). i made it as broad as i could. as YOU CAN DO IT TOO as i could. but as previously stated, if it doesn’t come naturally to you, if you don’t feel passion for writing compulsively, sharing everything, it will not happen. one (very successful entrepreneur) man (with a thriving business in yorkville) asked me how much work has to go into blogging. i found that to be the wrong attitude.
if you don’t see the story within yourself, your life, everything around you, then you are not a writer. if you look at the rocks you’re selling and you can’t make them dazzle, then you are not a story teller and you lack imagination and this is not for you. sorry. writing, blogging, networking, media, advertising, all of them go together. i don’t know how long that would take you, sorry, i don’t have an answer to your question rich yorkville guy. i don’t count hours because i don’t quantify the value of my life in that way. i love what i do because i believe in it. it is the real deal for me and people could see right through it if it wasn’t.
attempting to personify perfection (personally, relationshippy)(which i am not the only one on this planet who is a guilty party of) is a dumb move. perfect is boring. pretending it’s perfect even moreso. not only that, so totally painful too. flaws are great. quirks. love them. highlight those.
anyway here’s one question i asked for, eloquently so too “give me an outline otherwise i just go on long tangents, go back on topic, then go off again and again. i love talking. i start out a bit shy then i hit my groove.”
A lot of attention has been paid recently to people who regretted something they had posted online (because it interfered with a relationship or getting a job or whatever). Has that ever been an issue for you?
no. i have opted for the artistic side of the fence so it’s never been a problem for me. if someone doesn’t accept me for what i am, and what i am essentially is what i do then they don’t accept me, therefore they can move along. some people choose to actively take issue with everything there is about me just to draw lines in the sand, it’s pretty sad. people pre-judge me all the time, it’s exhausting. the line of work i’m after doesn’t necessitate rolled down sleeves and fly rights. i try and watch what i say in terms of friend’s wishes for privacy. i won’t brag about blow with celebrities though that would be awesome for me personally, not awesome for everyone else. i don’t exploit others, just myself. again no, i don’t regret any of this, and why should i? this is about me, not them. i kept at it through all the bullshit and tears, drama, breakdowns, all of that, because it’s life. modern day life exposed.
and now i have to answer some questions for an interview that will be featured in Las Vegas CityLife huh what? haha.
people who say APPS trigger a wild knee-jerk hate-on reaction within me. significantly so. i feel like i am being spoken to by a desperate to please woman-baby. i was around for the 80s and you’re older than me, so i know there was a time when that term was so not in your vocabulary you fucking liar and if you ever say that shit around me again i am leaving your snoozer get-together. (after i eat everything of course) ps. just try and pull “appys” and see what happens.
don’t care how slumming ghetto it appears, shit’s good st. louis.
could put my dance lessons to use here. ha.
much like that radiohead collab with unkle rabbit in your headlights video that i will now listen to fifty times. “she cries when she’s laughing.”
happened upon this amazing little scene, hidden gem i’d imagine. felt like going back in time a bit. i’ve been feeling that way a lot lately actually. being the new girl, where nobody knows my name. it’s kinda great. i always fantasized in school to move around a lot, new friends, new places. to be a new person.
sometimes i feel like poison. like my world is poison and what i mean by that is, i like to keep things separate. would like to. but i also feel an innate sense of obligation to be out with everything. then i remember the poison, the pressure rather, how it affects everyone around me and i want to protect them from it. i’d like to be more forthright is what i’m getting at. maybe.
that tee from walmart (yes i know)(ugh) was 7 bones. the cardi also from w-mart. yes the place is disgustingly evil but, when in rome…nah it was late and zellers was closed. we needed scrabble and 140 dollars later we were done.
i summarize yesterday’s camp scene to that of fubar meets trailer park boys.
no i’m not above it. i’m in it.
every shade of pink i have. commencing nail regrowth. grow and paint and rip. grow and tear and throw it in an ashtray, hide it in the carpet.
there’s been a lot of woods squatting lately.
catching yourself on some twigs on the way down is a little bit of a shock.
how many times do you live?
these guys barely made it through the day. the box kinda gets me jazzed for christmas already. that’s just the stupid talking though. not at all considering any and all potential stress revolving around the holidays.
hi leslie.
yes those seriously were my letters.
i would be lying if i said these dogs weren’t full-on enchanted by me.
and they respond to me as mummy.
it was close but i won. dave got stuck with a Q. i’d like to give a shout-out to dictionary.com for allowing words such as po and i swear there was an “ay” in there too but i can’t see it now.
watching a dog dismantle a stuffed creature of yours is satisfying. freeing.
+++
and allan as always, rules. he came to my first art show and gave me a nice bottle of red wine, shyly spake some encouraging words and then he was gone. that’s class.
Daily newspapers and television and radio seem to go out of their way to pretend that the internet doesn’t exist.
Can’t really blame them for feeling threatened, but I do blame them for being such cowards as to ignore the reality of how large a role the web plays in everyone’s life in 2009.
So I’m very impressed that the Globe did this story, for whatever reason, and regardless of how long it took them to acknowledge even just one of the real heroes of new media.
Anyone who has ever read Catcher In The Rye can see that Lauren White is one of the most gifted writers on the world wide web.
It’s not just her humour and bad attitude that dazzles and blows away the cobwebs of mundane conformity.
She plays with the language and invents new words with the ease of the best poets who ever lived.
She takes the pathetic existence of living in Toronto and going nowhere and being a nobody, and asserts that she has far greater worth, whether anybody agrees or not, whether anyone likes it or not.
I’ve always admired her courage, and think she’s brilliant.
I was catching up on your blog over the weekend and I wanted to tell you that as a member of your audience, I am very excited about this crossroads that you’re at. i wish I had the balls to be as honest and open about my life as you are.
For my money, you’re in league with Chaplin, The Beatles, Walt Disney, etc. People who set the standard and create the artform as they go along, leaving the rest of the world to play catch up and try to define it later.
Keep shining, you bright star.
remember this gem wow summer feels so far away. that’s an entire life away. the best quote in this video is when i say, “it’s like here’s my head and my face and then it’s like my face is trying to leave my head.” that’s before i even started smoking the sweet cheecha my friends. don’t be jealous if your face doesn’t look mounted on your head like mine does.
just wanted to let you know that i emailed hal, and he said the quote was taken out of context/misquoted. i’m familiar with his writing, so it seeme really weird for him to just say something as cutting as that.
anyway, thought I’d let you know,
lucas
for the record i am OK with the g&m article. the picture could have been painted differently, but so what. it’s press. many things i said (and we all know how much of a big mouth i am) were left out. but apparently i am a hypocrite for not releasing a statement regarding my painful private breakup because i talk about bowel movements and how much everyone sucks secretly on the internet all the time. me and shulgan are cool, in fact he just called and is being rather helpful with book agent name-droppings so… though i’m not going to ignore my suspicion of his desire to create this grand internet drama clusterfuck betwixt us all. i do admire his shit-stirring candor, it’s amusing. he also considers me the most prolific blogger ever, so there’s that.
