Usually, when people ask me why it was so special, I say “When it worked, it worked really well”.
What I really mean to say is,
“It was the way her kisses would travel down my spine. The way she wore her hair differently every time I saw her. The way her cheeks would round so endearingly when she truly laughed. The way she could look beautiful wearing dresses, or jeans, or my old pajamas. The way the tantalizing golden down traveled along her lower back. The way her body felt against mine when I pulled her close.
It was because she brought me green tea bubble bath when I was home sick for three days with strep throat. Cause she loved trying new things, like taro dumplings, and ha gow and sui mai and tofu flower, and bubble tea. Cause she would buy me bengal spice tea, and hand creams, and soaps, and flowers for no reason in particular.
It was because she liked taking photos of me too. Cause she would remember the things I wanted when mentioning them in passing so she could look them up and buy them for me later. Cause she truly appreciated the gifts that I gave her. Cause she spent so long preparing for my birthday last year, even though she knows I don’t celebrate it. Cause she helped me seek therapy for my anxiety issues. Cause she came with me to concerts when I didn’t want to go alone. Cause she loved The Mars Volta and Shane Watt as much as I do.
It was the way she could create so many beautiful things with her hands, using paint or chalk or toner or lead or metal or chocolate. The way she supported me and my photography. The way we would take turns choosing movies and watched them together, even though our tastes were so different. The way she got along with my friends and loved my cat.
It was the way I would fall in love with her over and over again every day.
In her, I had found the person I was looking for my whole life, and she held me captive every moment we were together.”
But I never do.
Tim was in town for a presentation this weekend, so a few of us went to dinner at a restaurant close to where he used to live. It turns out this place used to be called Drumlin’s Pub, which I knew from second year of university, ohhh…seven years ago? I distinctly remember being in there once, doing shots at the bar while sitting next to an older guy who was over $30k in debt to OSAP, telling me to go after the bigger girls cause they do way more “stuff”. On our drinking tours of the city back then, we would always try to find a place that served good, cheap wings, and Strongbow. If I remember correctly, Drumlin’s had hearty honey garlic, but no cider.
Now that it’s under new management, it has a really generic name — like Sandy Hill Bar And Grill — though it makes up for this fact with much better pub fare. Such social opportunities are great for testing out the 360° surround capabilities of the Zoom H2 sound recorder I recently purchased as an investment towards better sound production in my videos.
[audio:dinner-with-timmites.mp3|titles=Dinner with Timmites]
In his defence, Tim was surprised to discover that Jess has a new boyfriend, and was being (jokingly) self-deprecating about his sex life. Next at the table was Reagan, who was asked about hers. Jess picked up the mic and pointed it at me, perhaps to shift the attention away from Reagan and shield her from embarrassment. Of course, it all plays out much nicer when you have a recording of it.
One time, she suddenly asked me, “Have you had sex with anyone else?”, which she used to imply as between the last time and what we were about to do. It was a valid question, since we’re both sensitive to the proliferation of Cupid’s itch and Venus’s curse.
I was insulted that she asked, because at the time I felt like sex with someone else would have been cheating on her. As uncommitted as the relationship was, she still had my heart, and consequently, other parts of my body as well. I’m also not like that, and it takes a lot before I decide to be intimate with someone. But at the same time, I was flattered that she thought I would or could, a little boost to my ego that is rarely ruled by machismo or testosterone.
“I haven’t either”, she reassured, which was something I naturally assumed of my modest muse, so it was of little comfort to me.
When Rachel Beausoleil started working on her latest album, she approached me about designing the artwork. We sat down and threw around some ideas before she even started recording, but didn’t come up with anything solid because I didn’t have a sound to go on. All I knew was that it was a medley of songs, not like her last album where the songs followed a theme.
One day I came home to find a recording of the album in my mailbox, yet to be mastered. She named the album after the eponymous track, The Dawning, which is a jazz arrangement of the famous song Aquarius, a personal anthem of hers.
She gave me her notes soon after, so I put on the album and gave it a good listen, feeling a certain clarity from her sound. It made me think about dawn, and space, and sunrises, and hot colours, so I incorporated those elements when laying out the text, as well as some bokeh to give an off-focus glimmer.
Continue reading “The Dawning: Rachel CD Release Concert”…
I can’t wait until the Christmas holidays. I’ll have a chance to work on projects I’ve put on hold to make time for paid work. A chance to breathe. A chance to do nothing. Some serious me time, inside my warm house, watching a movie while wrapped in blankets. Lazy maple bacon every day, hermitizing. I may even decide to go home and visit people I always mean to see when I’m in Toronto, but never have a chance to.
I’m busy with side-work until the new year, and currently not accepting new work. On the social end, I’ve come to a point where I’m not only booked, but double-booked, and find myself having to prioritize plans and decide what I’d rather do. It’s been great for keeping my brain busy, and whereas I’d normally feel overstimulated, I’m now reveling in all these awesome experiences and people I get to meet.
This doesn’t feel like a transition phase, as the transition, or whatever the hell it is, already happened weeks ago. I was at fork in the road, and now that I’ve taken the first steps, I find myself on a one-way path through a tunnel without any exits, wondering what’s on the other end.