2002-04-24 - 3:07 p.m.

'my idea of a perfect body includes scars'

and i think about the dozens of ways i can relate to that so differently than was intended. And that the layers of her and i are always shifting. Her art is contagious tho I'm strictly a paint-by-numbers girl. all day i see his chest behind my lids and it's a chemistry i can't describe away.

funny.

and memo to sausageboy:

u know me now, who are you? xox

And so, with my pink boots and my chub on spotlight, the reading went fairly well. I felt pretty good about it. I edited out all the sex parts on stage (ok - do not tsk - the sex parts were more like 'and then they beat the shit out of each other and it was hot) Not the right audience.

I met a girl from ecw in the bathroom who said 'I'm so gonna talk you up.." and the publisher of Anansi told me to send them love letters. I'm glad I didn't grab Q and run when i got to the place, which was my first instinct.

MIchael Ondajte and Esta Spalding were there. Of course, i didn't know that until my publisher leaned over to roll her eyes and say "oh, all the stars are here." and despite feeling like a clumsy kid with crayon face, it was a fun moment.

ANd so I must be off to give my neglected cat some loving. I bought her 17dollar catfood yesterday out of guilt. She tried to scratch my face off yesterday when i tried to hug her goodbye.

"open" by Lisa Moore is a gem. Go and read it.

And that Richard Vaughn. He's making the top ten list of the smarty arty fags i heart.

Greg. you are your own list. fret not. you do not have dementia either. you are just smarter that everyone else around you which means the symptoms are similar.

Anyway, the reading was fabulous. Lots o talk about 'their generation' o writers (under 40, 2 books under their belt..) and i wondered who would be on stage with me in my generational grouping. I don't really want a class photo or anything..but sometimes i wonder who my peers are.

I'm off to get my paycheck from the workshops. Woke up not able to afford coffee and almost chewed through my pillow. Am un petit peu stresse.

I love Ashanti. the new song. It's such a gem.

and jodycoyote, the namesake, has a new band called the infinite ex's. OK, this is probably old news, but i no longer keep up with the who's-who in the Chainsaw/KRS indie rock world. Call me uncool for prioritizing things outside the rekord store, but alas, it's true.

I am so nervous right now about the reading tonight. I tried to dress semi-classy but fail, always. I'm will always have cat hair and two-inch roots and unblended eyeshadow. "chipped nails IS femme" said celia this weekend. I agree.

Tell me I'm pretty.

(I stole that from greg)

I'm going to a reading tonight by myself..a launch of The Notebooks, sadly sans Ms.Woodrow. I have pink cowboy boots on which are making me feel a little more confidant. I feel so much like a SPY at these kinds of gigs - like a little have-not undercover secretly logging down the details of of what pro-writers do.

"note: michelle berry wears black eyeliner and drinks tonic and cranberry. Try this next time."

I'm joking, of course. :)

Tomorrow is the reading i've been waiting for since I arrived in this city five years ago and I KNOW that I'll be hit by a bus or accidently poisoned by the new line of MAC lipstick that i'll shoplift beforehand just because it would be kind of funny in a glib and predictable alanis moriesette way.

AN open letter to the 9 greyhound vodka drinks i had on Sat night may be in order. A swift little note demanding explanations for the way it does me in - unearths all this conflict i think has settled into my mental sediment but is really just lying around in wait for the overlyemotional potato-derived liquor to kick start the drama.

oh, what the fuck am I even talking about?

My cat is mad at me and so pissed on my BED..twice..beside my fucking pillow no-less leaving me to sleep on the couch while laundering my sheets about 50 times and threatening to send her to the pound (do we have those?) and her just looking at me like "well, you should COME HOME MORE and stop buying my that 7-11 ghetto litter and spring for the GOOD STUFF" and I think that crying while watching a behind the music special on the now DEAD singer from ALice in CHains was in order - the band that we went to see in grade 10 and proudly sported pit-kick bruises to homeroom - crying, not because of the demise of a b-grunge celeb but because my cat is ruining my peace of mind and there are is no kitty xanaz suppliers up at that ungodly hour.

clearly, writing is not my forte today.

I have not eaten and my blood sugar is low.

and sometimes, you just have to keep typing until the ridiculous things you think while kicking your feet loudly in pink boots come out and you can begin to be profound again. heh heh.

I just got a job. Not THE job. But A job. phew.

I've had three expresso lattes and an icey 7-11 cola while walking for about three hours in the sun. Pinker, rapidly aging and close to passing out, i am succesfully outrunning my cramps.

The parkdale gem house is being invaded by Ants. This morning Pirate and I examined them closer to see if they are carpenter ants. They do not appear to have saws or be wearing coveralls, so we are hoping they are the usual 'i-want-to-eat-your-discarded-glucose' ants and not the 'we-are-slowly-eating-your-walls' variety.

The thing is, i cannot kill them. I chase them away with my breath - give them my best bitchy glares. But squishing is out of the question. I believe in karma and i've seen the movie Antz.

I said a pre-dawn eulogy for the ladybug who breathed her last breath on my nightstand. She kicked it between the can of red spraypaint and the half-drunk bottle of yellow gatorade.

My weekend is full with filming the femme movie, dancing on Sat night and Sundays are for the STern Writing Mistresses and then a Pretty, Porky and Pissed Off meeting/clothing swap. I am swamped with cool queer activites cette fin de semaine.

Y'all are slacking on my guestbook wishes......SIGN IT, kids. 'Specially you, Sam. (wave!)

Fat chick activist Nomy Lamm will be in town on the first - perhaps pretty, porky should take her out for treats.

Sitting and listening to folk music with my favorite voice-cracking best friend.

The other night i sat on Baldwin street with Q and Hotwheelz et al and soaked up the sun. It was so sweet and perfect.It only crossed my mind once that it was probably my first patio day o the season in years i haven't spent with Ange. It didn't make me sad though. OK, i'm a liar. I'm feeling sadly complacent. Oh, this is too personal. Shut-up. Ok.

My streetcar stop was the meeting point for several supermodels this morning. I usually feel like the pretty one amongst the shoeless mutterers. resisted urge to trip them up the stairs. I'm not having a good body image day.

what's with the fucken confessions today? mm.

I'm writing up resumes and blending eyeshadows without the help of Lee and thinking about the May Media -athon me an' Q are gonna launch. Do-it-yourself on a more ambitious scale.

I'm inspired when i'm not sitting at the end of my bed staring at my cat who's staring back at me, expectantly.

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