Submitted by megan on Tue, 05/30/2006 - 07:04
Busy busy few days.
I did manage to haul my ass out to the Michael Dennis reading. However, I’d made the mistake of visiting a cute boy first, so I was a little distracted during the reading, thinking of fucking rather than words. When I did focus, I started crying during the poem about the poet and his wife celebrating their 12th anniversary. Whiplash. Luckily I was at the back of the crowd and I don’t think anyone noticed. Either the tears or my broken neck.
Had a chance to talk to David Scrimshaw, who is lovely, and also Harold Hoefle, who I thought was gay at first, because of the very charming story he’d read at the Lust for Life launch the week before. Though really, I should know better. I may be a little rusty on picking up vibes, but when he started asking what music I liked, I kinda cottoned on. A nice ego-boost alongside a good conversation with an interesting person. Who likes good music, by the by.
Afterwards, I snuck off to Bridgehead to tear through the rest of Jen’s book Grrrl. I can’t recommend it highly enough. At points it was a little excruciating to read, but only because Jen has managed to nail the teenage girl voice so well. It’s occasionally embarrassing to remember what I was really like as a teenager. Maybe more than occasionally. If Bitch Magazine ever gets back to me, I’m going to praise Grrrl to the skies so that anyone who reads the review won’t be able to help but buy it. You should go buy it too: at Octopus Books or at Venus Envy, or through Gorsky Press if you’re not in Ottawa.
First there was Infant Massage. I got to rub the legs and belly, chest and arms of the adorable Fiona. Or the adorable Ruby. Memory fades. Then a rush home, and a rush off to Heather Crowe’s funeral. Strangely, I couldn’t manage to cry when it was appropriate. A rush home, into the shower, out of the shower, answering my door in a towel at 4 pm and off to Certain Sort. I had a good time, even though I was in no mood to socialize. Jayda - adorable! - worked the door with me and again, salved my ego by flirting with me. Two times in one weekend! Good lord. Must be the haircut.
And then I asked a cute girl out for coffee. I’ve been salivating over her for years. That night I though, well, what the fuck. I'm single and why not. No day or time set yet, but I got her digits and email address.
Initially I was jazzed. Then I got sad. First date post-Mike. It feels different somehow, than the dates I went on when I was with Mike. No safety net.
Lazing. And lazing.