Vampire Slayer

My Halloween costume is coming together nicely. Today I'm in full makeup. It's hilarious. My friend Melanie did it for me. My beard has been darkened with black powder, and I'm wearing black eye-liner and mascara. I look hot if I do say so myself. My eyelashes look so long!! It's wild!
I could get hooked on this makeup thing. I've never ever worn any. Today was just a test run to see if I would like it, and to see if it will suit my "Vampire Slayer" costume, which it will, perfectly.

The ensemble is going to include spiking my hair, the long black coat I bought on Saturday, black t-shirt, 2 wooden stakes I whittled myself, a gold crucifix, a pair of black leather Doc boots I'm borrowing from a friend of a friend, and more black leather... a shitload of black leather really. Leather pants, leather cop gloves, and leather wrist bands. I'm quoting myself when I say, this costume is going to be "Hyper Masculine... and Uber Gay". I'm looking forward to rockin' it with confidence.

This is my first "real" Halloween costume since I was a kid. Every other effort I've made has been just thrown together and lame. This year, I just want to have fun. It's sexy. I feel pretty good about myself, so "why not"? Halloween's past, I've always been too self-conscious to look silly or draw attention to myself. This year is going to be about having fun with everyone else by getting into the spirit.

I'm finding that makeup makes me sleepy. My eyes feel heavy, and the only thing I can attribute it to is the added weight to my eyelashes. Mel told me this stuff doesn't wash off easily. I'm not even going to bother til tonight. Which means I'm headed to volleyball, looking exactly as I do now. Should be good for a few laughs or comments. It's a gay league, so it's quite possible I won't get any strange looks.

At the very least, I'm making all of my coworkers smile today. I've been grinning at all of them when they react. Of course the guys tell me I look scary, whereas the girls for the most-part have told me I look sexy. Everyone loves the beard. I do too.

Fun stuff!

Song of the day is "New Morning" by a band called Alpha Rev. Love them. They remind me of Coldplay or Keane. This song is very uplifting. It's helped me keep my head up on an occasion or two. (click on the title to watch the video and hear the song.)

Alpha Rev "New Morning"

I don't give a damn
'Bout the castle on the hill
All the gold that we could eat,
Or the horse you had for sale
No I'm getting kinda rich on the sight of any soul alive.

I don't give a damn
If I'm running from the law
When my money's not enough
And they come and take it all
No I'm getting kinda rich on the sight of any soul alive

Have you heard the Mona Lisa?
Have you heard who you are?
You're a new morning.
You're a new morning.

Wanna be OK
When I'm sitting here alone
Not just thinking of the ways
That I could have done it wrong
No I'm getting kinda rich on the sight of any soul alive.

Have you heard the Mona Lisa?
Have you heard who you are?
You're a new morning.
You're a new morning.
You're a new morning.
Now,
You're a new morning now.

Have you heard my Mona Lisa?
Have you heard who you are?
You're a new morning.
You're a new morning.
You're a new morning.
Now,
You're a new morning now.

Perfect Tuna Sandwiches North of Bloor

Today I congratulate myself on the perfecting of the tuna fish sandwich. Yes. You read it here. I did it. The most perfect tuna sandwich ever known to the human palette. And I do not fear telling the world, for I have nothing but joy to gain from knowing more souls will know the bliss. The secret is lemon juice, lemon juice, lemon juice, a shot of olive oil, and lemon-pepper. ...Oh... and 12 grain bread if you please.

Considering I don't really like fish, and I eat it merely as a healthy alternative... this is a delicious accomplishment. Mark my words, if you wish to begin living. ; )

That patting sound you hear? My hand, making contact with my own back.
Go tuna sandwich boy! Go!

And on a completely different note (of frustration), I would like bitch for a moment about friends. The kind of bitching that needs not be mentioned out loud to anyone specifically. Merely trumpeting it on the internet will serve a purpose all it's own.

Do you have any friends that never see your home? Not for lack of invitation or cleanliness, please note. Though I am no Molly Maid, I do not live in discernible filth. But I rarely have guests to my apartment - because... I can only surmise to have the laziest fucking friends in the world. I don't think I've ever written about where I live, but in the name of good storytelling I will say that I live in what is considered "Uptown Toronto".

I live minutes by foot, north of Eglinton Avenue West, and a 10 minute bus ride west of Yonge Street.

Yonge Street is (at almost 1900 kms) formerly listed as the longest street in the world. For perspective... it is roughly 27 kms from my apartment, to my workplace (which is downtown by the Eaton Centre). It takes me 20 minutes via TTC subway to make this commute. The portion needed to traverse my section of the former longest street in the world, is a fraction of a fraction of its great distance.

20 minutes is not a huge time investment.

Admittedly, traffic can be awful, but this is Toronto; take the subway.

Perhaps I am alone in not minding the journey across the city to see friends in the many different communities they reside in. They live in the Beach. They live in Parkdale. They live in Cabbagetown. They live in Etobicoke. They live downtown. And I will gladly go wherever they live to enjoy their company.

But mention "where I live", and suddenly, many friends are too tired, don't have enough time, or enough dogs for the sled it will take to get north of Bloor Street.

Please note, I live 7 minutes north of Bloor Street by subway.
7.
Effing.
Minutes.

I do not complain.
Ever.
But it most certainly occurs to me that to go and visit my friends, I must traverse the exact time and distance it would take for them to visit me.

And with that, I release a giant sigh, and ask what I can bring from the great northern unknown of Eglinton Avenue West.

There are no seals to club for warm pelts, so don't bother asking.

Song of the day: click on the link to watch the video. Clare came to fame on YouTube and MySpace by doing cover songs. This link contains the incredibly moody Breakage Remix version of the song, but I highly recommend the amazing original too. This lady's got chops.

Clare Maguire - Ain't Nobody (& Ain't Nobody, The Breakage Remix)

Ain't nobody can love me like you do.
Ain't nobody can love me like you do.
Ain't nobody can love me like you do.
Ain't nobody can love me like you do.

Meet me in the red sky and dance with me,
let the valley change you and the night set you free.
This dusk in the desert,
it's heaven at the gate.
You are my desire,
You are my escape.

Ain't nobody can love me like you do.
Ain't nobody can love me like you do.
Ain't nobody can love me like you do.
Ain't nobody can love me like you do.

Open up this moment and bury me inside.
I can see us changing,
like a season over time.
It's sin undermines us,
reflections of your life.
Drown me in the silence,
it will never come undone.

Ain't nobody can love me like you do.
Ain't nobody can love me like you do.
Ain't nobody can love me like you do.
Ain't nobody can love me like you do.

woah oh x 3

Shadows are falling,
tomorrow is closing in.
Stay with me 'til morning,
open up your wings.
I can hear your whispers calling out my name,
will you promise me that you'll steal the night again?

Ain't nobody can love me like you do.
Ain't nobody can love me like you do.
Ain't nobody can love me like you do.
Ain't nobody can love me like you do.

woah oh x 3

Meet me in the red sky and dance with me,
let the valley change you and the night set you free.
This dusk in the desert,
it's heaven at the gate.
You are my desire,
You are my escape.

Swat

There's a difference between writing because you need to let things out, and writing because you want people to know what you're thinking.

I think that's why my blogging has been abandoned.

Attention and comments are irrelevant. Ultimately, only what YOU think of your own life is what matters. If you're putting your thoughts out there for sympathy: good luck. Everyone has their own dose of misery to contend with. Advice... ...advice can be merely empty words if it doesn't speak to you, or if you truly believe your own take on your woes is unique to the woes of anyone else, or their take on them.

Holy fuck, am I a different person than when I first started this blog.

I like me.

I think I'm a wonderful person.

I long for the day when I live like I believe it.

I'm so close I can swat at it, and watch it tether from the impact.

/////////////////////

I'm getting tattoos. One on the underside of each forearm. The left arm: Sasta. The right arm: Amhain. It's Gaelic for "Happy Alone". It is my mantra, and my resolve.

Though I may not be blogging, I have been writing. At long last. I've been reading "The Artist's Way" by Julia Cameron, and only just begun to complete the exercises. Of course this is something I had originally planned to begin in August, and gave up Facebook to do so. It set me on a path of writing every day in a notebook, which was incredibly liberating and therapeutic. I filled a 200 page notebook in less than 2 months. It's time to carry on with the lessons though. I do not want to journal. I want to write. I want to create.

Giving up Facebook has been a life-lesson I didn't anticipate. I will not take it up again before I have finished the Artist's Way, and finished "Writing Your Screenplay". I will not take it up again until I actually "write" a book or "screenplay" as a matter of fact.

I have learned that grief can be wielded with function. It can sit on my shoulder. It can shut the fuck up.