who needs stacey and clinton when i have marsha and leeann
after waiting through some bad screamy-art fag band, some bad queers meets clash band (whose members i know and i feel bad talking shit on their band but it wasnt good and i aint gonna lie), and this pretty interesting CLEARLY art-fag band (the dude was playing his guitar with a VIOLIN BOW and he had a moog on stage), FINALLY guitar wolf took the stage.
i have not seen so many people GO FUCKING NUTS like i did last night.
i ran into steve at the bar and he let me upstairs into that little opera-like booth they have at lee's. i liked it cause it meant i didnt have to stand with the plebs anymore.
and you know what?
i know ive been away but once you go VIP, you cant go back.
i hatehatehatehatehate standing in the crowd.
i like being a spoiled princess bitch sitting off to the side and watching from behind the stage.
it was from this regal angle that i saw the lead singer, pluck a tall scrawny white dude from the audience and put his guitar on him and make him strum along.
so here's he was, the sole whitey in an all-jap band...it was every indie rocker boy's wet dream.
the kid didnt know what the hell do with the guitar and in a panic, dropped the guitar pic and started strumming with his bare hands.
AAAAAAAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHHAHOLYAHAHAHAHHAMOTHERFUCKINGAHAHAHHAHAHAHAWESOMEAHAHAHAHAH
that's when my princess opera seats came in handy.
the lead singer curled up in a ball in front of the drum kit and started to fucking hurl his guts out. when it wouldnt come out on its own, he stuck a few fingers in there and that's when he hit the gold rush.
all that was left was a giant puddle of noodles (how stereotypically asian, by the way, he shoulda eaten a hamburger) on a large, spreading stain on the stage's carpet.
it was, perhaps, the most rockNroll moment of the night.
i saw jeff and we hugged and talked and he asked me "where have you been?"
and it was total stab to my heart because he really thought i had been in another country for the past two and half years and i was all, "uh, i was in a relationship".
and it's the most foul fucking truth....god, i get crabs just writing that sentence.
after i bought a tshirt, i went to see the zoobombs at the silver dollar after but they were a real let down doing this shoegazer, stoner rock.
apparently, the real entertainment was in the bathroom cause dan burke was having a total freak-out.
sigh.
i wish you guys knew who he was and knew how fucked up and funny this story is.
with only 4 hours of sleep in my veins, i went to aveda to get my hair lopped.
my beautiful curls are gone. i have a reverse mullet.
it's SUPER layered in the back and longer in the front with layers framing my face.
it's beyond rockNroll.
it's a rockNroll haircut from the 60s barfed into the new millenium and worm-holed back onto my head.
apparently, my haircut has a name: "the graduate".
i went from hair that covered my boobies to hair that exposes the entirety of my neck.
all i know is that i have NEVER in my life done anything this outrageous to my head.
and it's all thanks to leeann who is learning the electric guitar and listens to slayer at home.
leeann will be back in a year to be an educator, so i feel pretty stoked that she cut my hair. and she's referred me to good people. so all you ladies in the 416 area looking for a $40 haircut CALL ME!
i returned that godawful shade of lipstick and then milled around the store and started talking to Marsha asking what colours i could pull off.
and she said that i could do anything i wanted so long as i did it with care....it was like being in grade 02 again and Marsha fuh real-fuh real was giving me that vibe.
let me tell you something.
when it comes to make-up white girls see me as "coloured" and black girls see me as "white".
i never asked to be born with olive skin, okay?
and everytime i listen to these convincing little cosmeticians, i end looking like a fucking nightmare.
it's like, play your race wars out SOMEWHERE other than my face, okay?
but not my Marsha.
Marsha missed 45 minutes of her break just to sit and talk with me and play make-up with my face and tell me: "i love your face! you have these gorgeous cat-like eyes and these full lips. i could just put make-up on you all day."
it has been the only unprompted compliment i have received about my looks in months and for the first time in MONTHS, i let myself believe it and take it in.
so then we started trading jokes and talking about life and boys and she was just so friendly and forth-coming and it we didnt have a gloomy, serious conversation at all. it was totally upbeat and hilarious and she said:
"you are gonna have REALLY high highs and REALLY low lows. know that and embrace it and dont get overwhelmed by it. and i dont wanna see you looking at ANY man right now, you heard me? you need time for you. put yourself first because i KNOW you werent doing that, were you?"
dr.phil aint got shit on my Marsha.
she told me to the store before i come in again to make sure she's there so that she can know how i'm doing. and she wrote her name and number down on her card!
OH.MY.GOD.
there are retail people out there who actually care.
stuff has happened.
both on the outside and the inside.
and the drastic change on the outside is a reflection of all the things i'm breaking down and tearing up and folding over on the inside.
and most times i dont write what im thinking or say how im feeling cause that's not me anymore.
but i look good.
and it feels good to look good.
and tonight im gonna debone this entire city.
and now i nap before seeing 3 inches of blood who, by the way, never come to toronto unless it's a festival event....it's annoying.
i should really post pictures, shouldnt i?