April 2014
This blog is brought to you in part by:
- by admin
- National Public Radio
- Every Gary Oldman movie
- The way the sun looks on the mountains in BC
- The Protomen Act II: The Father of Death album
- 12-packs of Half Pints
- iTunes playlists
- The feeling of leaving on a road trip
- Striped, matching onesies
- The way the rain sounds in West Broadway
and
-Your love.
Konstantine
- by admin
When the guy I was seeing left me it was 11pm on a Thursday and he did it in the Second Cup on Graham Ave and I was dumbstruck and I cried.
I was young and I didn't know what to do so I got up and left and he followed me because that's what you're supposed to do when someone storms out of somewhere, I guess.
It was February and it was snowing and I was trying to put on my coat and my mittens and my scarf at the same time and failing because nothing made sense, least of all arm holes and wool and zippers.
Nothing makes sense when someone hurts you.
He followed me and took my hand and because I was young I thought that meant something and he said "I'm sorry, let's go back to my place and we can talk" and because I was young I thought that meant something so we did.
But it didn't mean anything. It didn't mean anything at all.
He drove me home at 2am and I screamed at him in his car, I said what the hell is wrong with you why did you invite me back to your apartment when I was trying to go home
and he said
I don't know. I don't know about anything right now.
and I said some awful things that I wish I could say that I regret.
When I got home I called the man I'd been in love with all along and because it was the kind of man that he was, he stayed on the phone with me until I fell asleep.
The next day he dropped his Friday night plans and picked me up from work with flowers and when I saw him I began to cry either because I was wounded or in love or probably both
and he held me in his car as I shook in his arms.
We went out for dinner and on the way home he held my hand in between the red lights and shifting gears, and we listened to Konstantine by Something Corporate and I watched the snow and the traffic as we drove from downtown to Old St. Vital.
Later that night when we were alone and I was consumed by the smell of him I thought of the words of that song, the slow sadness of it, and though I was young and sad and fucked up I felt like maybe I’d be all right.
Which turned out to be true, but not then.
Today is John's birthday
- by admin
Originally from Windsor, Ontario (which smells like gravy) John rocked out in a bunch of punk rock bands before moving to Winnipeg in order to make it 1000 times cooler.
One of those bands was called Sewing with Nancie which was a band that one of my ex-boyfriends happened to be obsessed over.
He was from another smaller Ontario town and had also moved to Winnipeg and was super into punk-rock and used to make me listen to Sewing with Nancie as we drove around in his Kia Spectra so naturally when I found out this weird connection my brain went like this:
But anyway.
I didn't meet John through my ex.
I met John how you meet all of the best people: while drunk and at a large social event with friends.
I was at the Winnipeg Wine Fest with Tyrone and my regular posse and he was there with my friend whom he was dating at the time.
Somehow between being outrageous and slamming back teeny glasses of wine we found ourselves skulking around port table together and (naturally) a friendship was born.
Since then we've had a plethora of ridiculous experiences which include but are not limited to:
romping in onesies
going on road trips
having inappropriate moustache parties
drinking beers in a giant blanket fort
eating KD on Pope's Hill watching the sun rise at Folk Fest
hanging porn up in other people's tents
curling in a bonspiel
skating and drinking SoCo
meeting a freaking astronaut
and a million other random, amazing things together.
It kinda goes without saying that he's one of my favourite people in the world, and I think I can safely speak for Tyrone and say that we both feel really lucky to count him as a friend.
So happy birthday, John.
May your synths always be poppy,
your leggings always be outrageous,
and your life always be full of good coffee, good beer & good times.
xox
yr girl Shaner
