Box-cutter Haircut #1

So, at 23 years of age, I am finally putting out my first zine.

 (Well, first real, solo zine. I'm not sure if the Thom Thom Colouring Book really counts).

It's all about my relationship with my body.

And my eating disorder.

Heavy stuff (oh god, no pun intended!).

I have most of it written up, so now it's all the cutting and the gluing and the colouring backgrounds in black.

Thanks, a solid week of rain, for finally kicking my ass into gear.

Woah, I have had such a productive day that I don't know what to do with the rest of my week.

I got up and went to work this morning, and even though I was only there fro 9:30 - noon, I got some shit done and made some money and it was a way to get me out of bed before 11.

Once I got off work I went to the post office and mailed a couple of things that I've been procrastinating on. It makes such a huge difference that there's a new employee at the post office, the guy that used to work there was a complete asshole. Who knew that little things like post office employees would make such a huge difference?

Once I got home I finished up both posters that I've been working on; one for a film screening and dinner that Molly and I are putting on (a fundraiser for Food Not Bombs' new community garden plot) and the other for the Harbour Water Fest 2 workshops. I'll probably scan them later so that everyone in the country will wind up flocking to Halifax to learn how to pick locks and become self-employed!

While I was waiting for Anchor Archive to open so I could use their photocopier I ran to Quinpool and rented the movie that we're screening next week, picked up a phone card, and bought some wort so that we'll have beer for Harbour Water!

Then I went to Anchor Archive and printed off a bajillion posters whilst ignoring the dudes volunteering there. Of course it would turn out that both volunteers were people that make me extreeemely uncomfortable.

Right after that I went to Bike Again to see if I could finally get a bike that suits me/fits me. Since my bike got stolen last summer I've tried a couple different bikes, but the first one was a piece of shit and only 3 speeds, and the second one was way too small and had shitty handle bars. I worked for close to an hour on a shiny black road bike (an All Pro? I've never heard of them before. Google says they're shitty k-mart bikes from the 70's. oh well!). I always get super self-conscious before I go to Bike Again and I'm always worried that I'm going to need to ask people for help and get all embarrassed, but whenever I actually find a bike and start to work on it I'm usually pretty comfortable. Tonight I was able to raise the seat, adjust the handlebars, and trim the gear cables and casings (for some reason they were outrageously long and hanging off the bike). Next time I go, all I'll really have to do is see if the tires hold air and maybe adjust the back brakes and rear derailleur. If I keep on this ultra productive roll, then I'll be able to finish the bike by Friday and attend my first Critical Mass of the year. Fingers crossed.

I feel good about the things I did today. I'm self conscious about my bike mechanic knowledge, my photocopier capabilities, and my brewing abilities, but I just fucking went for it. Even though an obnoxious dude had to get the paper to stop jamming in the People's Photocopier, things went pretty smoothly. I also don't usually like going places alone, but I really wasn't up to hanging out with anyone today so I bit the bullet. 

Go team getting shit done!

Bonnie

Some evening last week I was walking home along Gottingen street.
For those not familiar with the area, there's an abandoned department store on the block nearest my street. It's been boarded up for as long as I can remember, and is usually covered in posters and graffiti. Recently they've started cleaning it out so they can tear it down to build housing (they claim 50% is going to be reserved for "affordable housing", but I'll believe that when I see it).
Anyway, my eye was caught by a poster on a phone pole as I was walking past the building. While I was reading the poster, I noticed one of the "doors" (really just a giant slab of plywood) shift, and a woman emerged. I watched her out of the corner of my eye. She was white, probably in her late 30's, and had a travel mug and was wearing a lanyard with an id tag around her neck. I guess you could say she looked pretty normal. Except that in addition to her travel mug, she also had a can of spray paint in her hand.
Trying not to stare, I watched her slide the plywood closed again, saunter over a couple of feet, and paint something on the building. She then capped her can, and walked past me down the street.
A couple days later, I went back to see what it was that she had painted.

Fuck yes.

It's Easter Sunday, and that means...

OOOOOOOOOOHHHHHHHHH, YOUR FOLLOWERS ARE BLIND! 

TOO MUCH HEAVEN ON THEIR MINDS! IT WAS BEAUTIFUL BUT NOW IT'S SOUR. 

YES IT'S ALLLLLLLL GOOOOOOONNNEEEEE SOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOUUUUUUURRRRR!

Easter =  only holiday that I celebrate via rock opera

adventures in being a house punk

When I get anxious, depressed, flustered and so on, I find that what I tend to do is just hole up alone and stare off into space. I avoid people around me, neglect my immediate surroundings, and usually just dwell inside my own disturbed mind.
This is why one of the best ways for me to work through these bad times is to work hard to come out of my head and work on the space that I inhabit. Cleaning, building shit, fixing shit, etc. It's a real struggle to get to the point where I can start this kind of work, but if I can pull myself together then it's excellent therapy.

Today I'm finally starting to muster myself. I didn't make it as far as getting up to go to the food bank, but because Cory just moved in and needed a key to the apartment I found myself in Canadian Tire this morning. I figured that since I was there, I should get a new hinge for our toilet seat/lid since one of ours is broken and the fucking thing slides around all the time. While hunting for the hinge, I also found shower curtain liners and figured it was time to replace ours, which is so fucking mouldy that taking a shower is an exercise in making myself as small as possible so it doesn't brush up against me.
Cory ended up actually paying for these things out of a desire to contribute to the house, but as soon I as got home I got to work. The shower curtain liner was already ripped, which is a bummer but it was like, $2 so I guess I can't really complain. As I was putting it up I found myself wondering really inane shit, like "I wonder who standardized the amount of holes in shower curtains and liners. Did they like, have a conference about it?".

I wish someone had standardized the size of toilet seat hinges and the holes they're supposed to go through because, as it turns out, the hinge was way too big. I didn't want to have to go back to the store (and to be honest, they probably wouldn't give me an exchange on something I had tried to shove into a hole in my punk house toilet), so I ended up whittling the hinge down with my leatherman, and cramming it in. Voila, another successful repair on the Orphanage toilet (we also had to replace the rubber flapper last year. That was more annoying to fix, but was a bigger problem to begin with.)

I can't help but think of that lady who warned me not to become too domestic. I wonder at what point one becomes "too" domestic, you know? I mean, being comfortable in my home is important to me. Having shit to work on here gives me little bursts of satisfaction. I still get an incredible thrill out of travel, and I feel extremely comfortable hitchhiking, but having a home to be proud of is something I really desire. Otherwise I would probably just end up wallowing in a filthy, uncomfortable, poorly lit, stinky hovel and would never have a break from my own mental poisons.

Now I'm going to go busk with Ryley, because playing music is also really therapeutic for me and I really don't get to do it often enough these days. All I want to do is distract myself and occupy my mind with more positive thoughts until I can find a way to get to sleep, and then do it again the next day. Living day to day.

Fuck.

oh barf; anxiety

How many times a day can I possibly check my e-mail? I am losing my shit. I've been pacing around since yesterday, my heart is freaking out, and I can't concentrate on anything.
Fucking get in touch, please. You know who you are.

oh barf; feelings!

Today marks 6 months since Steve and I got over our awkwardness and decided that maybe kissing each other would be a good idea. I still stand by it! Steve is a babe and a sweetheart and I feel enormously lucky to someone like him to call a partner. He's in London, On right now with the Rumble Strips, so I miss him a lot but am also a little jealous that he gets to hang out with Davita G. tonight.
I love you Steve, here's to enjoying the warmer half of the year together!

fight fer yer rights Thursday

I woke up this morning to shouts of:

"WOMEN OF COLOUR, UNDER ATTACK, WHAT DO WE DO?"
"STAND UP, FIGHT BACK!"

I was super confused, as it was 8am on a Thursday morning. At first I thought Ryley was watching a movie or something, but then I peeked out my window and saw that there was a big, noisy picket going on at the corner of my block. Metro Housing Coalition, I think. They stayed noisy for several hours, then marched down to the legislature. I guess maybe they didn't get what they want yet because now they're picketing and chanting again and there are a lot of honking horns and stuff.

Well, it's spring, and with spring time comes evictions. Our upstairs neighbors are being informally evicted (they're not really putting up much of a fuss), and our friends across the commons are also getting the boot. After an unofficial notice of eviction showed up at their house (dated April 8th, telling them to be gone by the 30th, with a "thorough inspection" happening on the 14th), they decided to rally support on hold a tea party today to greet the landlord.
At first it didn't seem so bad, there was the aforementioned tea, and a lot of people came out and most dressed up. The landlord and his lackey moved through the apartment taking pictures and writing stuff down. They didn't really engage too much with the guests, but asked if anyone actually lived there a couple times.
Once they left (and slammed the door behind them) we thought we were home free and started to relax a bit...and then the cops showed up.
Long story short, landlords and cops are scummy, neither of them obey their own laws, and bureaucracy is a fucking headache. Incidentally, I stopped attending cop watch meetings and was removed from the mailing list, but I filmed the entire interaction with the police. Heh.
No one got arrested, but it was threatened. Thankfully we were able to keep them from coming inside the house, they're going to "investigate", and try to get an "emergency eviction". Not much has changed, but our friends might just have less time to figure their shit out. As much as I would love to see the land lord get dragged around and embarrassed at a hearing, it's not my house and I can totally understand that people wouldn't want to put that kind of energy into a place they aren't going to live anymore.

oooh man.
picking your nose
after chopping garlic
oooohnooooo

Ronny is the most hilarious cat

"Excuse me for a second, Ronny Boy, I'm just gonna take a self-portrait for my Tumblr"

"YOUR WHAT?!"

I got my GST cheque last week, which was a huge windfall to a person like me. I deposited it yesterday, and as a treat for...I don't know, getting a bunch of money without really having to work for it, I bought myself a new mop (one that I can actually wring out. I swear I have not mopped this apartment more than twice since I've lived here and frankly that's kinda gross) and a chin-up bar (surprise! I have become a huge jock!).
While I was walking back home with Molly, a lady that was walking her (enormous, beautiful) dog shouted out "DON'T BECOME TOO DOMESTIC!"
I assured her that there was no danger of that.

I've been to two punk shows in two days. I didn't know anyone playing! Weird! One was in a shed and one was in a bar. One I went to with my rad roommate and one I went to with my rad friend (not to say that my roommate isn't my friend, of course). One show had a lot of pot smokers, and the other had a lot of leather jackets with silver spikes and dudes wearing their own band's merch and dudes with reeeeeeaaally long hair. One show had a puppy, the other was seriously lacking in that department.

Today I used my new mop and my new chin-up bar and drank wine at work while talking about oppression and racism and then I just set up a TUMBLR what is wrong with me. I also talked to Steve on the phone and it sure as hell did not make me miss him any less.

Canada has 3 seasons: Busking, traveling, and winter

Well it's officially busking season here in Halifax! Despite the fact it was 0 degrees today, Ryley and I went downtown for the third day in a row. Now my fingers are super sore, my freckles are out in full force and my coin purse is significantly heavier. Each day we do a little better as we stay out longer, learn more songs, and become more comfortable with the songs we know.
I ran into another prominent Halifax busker today (his name is Matt, he's older than us and usually plays Beatles and Bob Dylan tunes) and he told us about how he'd just gotten a dish washing job after being "free" for 6 years. I think it was the first time I'd seen him downtown without his guitar, and he agreed he felt naked without it. It funny to think that he got a job to supplement his busking, and I busk to supplement my job.
Ryley and I are going to some random punk show in the north end tonight, so check on DIY Halifax soon for show photos and a review!

Dear The Girl Who Came Up To Me in the Library Today,

I'm sorry if I seemed rude when you told me I looked like someone who was going to the Disturbed concert tonight. And again when you said like I looked like someone who wanted to go. And again when you asked me how long it took me to stretch my ears. You caught me off guard.
When I was your age, I never would've had the guts to approach a stranger, especially one I thought might share common ground with me. Either you worked up some nerve to talk to me, or you are very weird. Also, you are stretching your ears way too fast, but you disappeared into the library before I had a chance to tell you that.
I hope you had fun at the concert.

Riot Squat

Last night I had a dream that I was living in a huge, multi-level squat with a large group of (mostly) queer women. It was like, an apartment building or a school or something and it was called Riot Squat.
There was some sort of party, I think it was an anniversary celebration and there were people and christmas lights and food all over the place. At one point I made out with a girl I've never met and stole her lip ring...
But then I remember running really fast up and down stairs and hiding under tables and behind doors as the squat got evicted by cops.
It weird, even though I didn't dream about actually setting up the squat or living there for any amount of time, I was really crushed by the eviction. I mean, I guess I always have a really emotional reaction to cops doing especially shitty things, and I've been through a squat eviction, but in the dream it still all felt really personal.

Also, does anyone else think Riot Squat is fucking sweet name?

Weird weekend

Last night we had the Rumble Strips tour kickoff show. I'll admit that I found it a little under-attended, but that's understandable considering how terrible the weather was and the fact that so many people are out of town.
It was a good show, though. Intimate. Also, Storm's parents came out and now I'm really regretting not telling them personally how great it was that they were there. My dad comes to house shows occasionally, and while there may be a few awkward moments where unfamiliar people think he's a cop or a landlord, everyone enjoys having him there and he has a great time. It feel really good to have that support. On the other hand, no matter how many times I invite my mother to house shows she never accepts. She's too uncomfortable, and says how "no one will want [her] there because [she's] too old". I wish we could make it so that all ages really means all ages.
Speaking of landlords, unfortunately the show had a lengthy intermission because of one. I guess Tyrone, the landlord of both the Orphanage and Skeletech, wandered up into Skeletech last night without any notice. Someone that was actually on the lease had to go out and negotiate with him, so we decided it would probably be a good idea to stop the show for a while (which is a shame, because Bramble is damn good, and folks ended up leaving before the Rumble Strips even played).
Everyone's pretty upset about Tyrone's tendency to just show up at the apartments. We have cats and paint on the walls, which is against the conditions in our lease. We're not bad tenants, though! We pay our rent on time and we love the neighborhood and Ryley busts her ass keeping the property clean and making sure that garbage and recycling and compost all get to the curb on time. Tyrone's not a bad landlord, either. He needs to start respecting our space and our boundaries, but he keeps the rent low and isn't breathing down our necks all the time. It's tough to know what to do. I know we could kick his ass about the fact that he comes over without proper notice, but then what? We find another place to live with a landlord that's probably no better? Pay exponentially more rent? It really sucks.
Despite the snafu with Tyrone, the show went well. Here are some shots -

Now the Rumble Strips have taken off on their grand adventure across the country. I'm excited for them, but also a little jealous.

Also, I am going to miss this guy a whole heck of a lot:

There's a show here tonight...

...but I already feel really uncomfortable in this house. I don't need hateful d-bags coming in here and ruining my last night with my partner for the next 2 months.
This is a hater-free house. If you don't like me, stay the fuck home.