Couples Divide at Christmas Time

New couples are faced with the challenge of spending time apart  during the the holiday season.

This holiday season I am being challenged with a situation for the first time. Though I have had a lover before during this season of jolly, I have never actually been part of her family as I am with my current girlfriend. We have respectfully decided to spend Christmas with our individual families, but we are confronting the thoughts of what to do in following years, as she wants to be with her family and I with mine.

I know it sounds petty, there are problems that are much larger in the world, but I have had a few sad moments thinking that I am not going to wake up beside her on that snowy morning, kiss her under her hand-crafted mistletoe and  remind her that she is the best gift I could ever ask for. It is our first Christmas together afterall.

I don't have a quick solution, perhaps this is why I am thinking this one out so much. She has younger siblings and parents of her own, and I have a 12-year old niece, parents and siblings of my own. I know that sometimes you have to be away from the ones you love to appreciate them more, but I can't help but think of the lyrics from the Mariah Carey Christmas classic, "All I Want for Christmas is You" and feel slightly melancholic.

Speaking with other couples I have learned that they rotate holidays among their families, and I guess perhaps that is something her and I will have to think about. Or perhaps when we are more mobile to get between our two houses that are about an hour apart, we can just drive between the two (but who wants to not be drunk on Christmas!).What I realize it that I have my own little family now, and though I love and cherish all the Christmas' with my Mom, Dad, brother, sister and niece - I will certainly miss my baby boo on that cold yet fuzzy-warm feeling morning.

I am one lucky lady to have such wonderful people in my life, full of kindness and good energy. I think I will promise her that when I wake on Christmas morning I will call her and say "Merry Christmas baby, I love you." I guess that is the best I can do.

The Art of Me

Now is not the time to fear, or be afraid. Now is the time to grow and vitalize true worth and potential. I am utterly blessed, and I owe no one anything but myself the diligence of realizing my greatest potential. I am not anyone's toy, I am not anyone's ball to a chain. I am realizing that for so long I have held inside my talents, my freedoms, the things that you claimed to value that you quickly vanished once you tasted the fruit of my ripe wisdom.

I know who you are, I have met ones like you. Those who rape you, invade you, open you and then leave you to be ravaged. What you don't know is that I am much more aware of you, then you are of yourself. I see that you are insecure, conniving and that you control those around you by making them feel empathy for your woes.

I am not afraid of you, for you will never be me. I do not wish to be you. I am ready to fulfill my destiny, for I am told by the astrologer that a change is close, one that would push me into my complete womanhood. She has arrived. I open the door to let her in. 

Goodbye to holding myself back, to playing it safe and knowing what is next. Hello to the challenges that lay ahead, the new opportunities and the chance to finally say goodbye to you.

NO H8

My partner Caitlin McGrath & I support NO H8.

If anyone out there needs a friend, a shoulder to cry on, or just someone to listen, please email me at thunderpussgeisha@gmail.com.

Our photo in support of the NO H8 Campaign: http://www.noh8campaign.com/

For those struggling with thoughts of suicide: http://www.thetrevorproject.org/

Photo by Simone Maurice. Make-up by Daniela Saldias.

Queer in Toronto

My picture, as well as my beautiful partner's are featured in the Queer in Toronto photography exhibit. This landmark show representing queer women and trans folks in the Greater Toronto Area will run until November 24th at the Gladstone Gallery located in the Gladstone Hotel.

I will soon follow with a link to an article on Queer in Toronto that will appear in Xtra. However, I thought I  share my featured photgraph with you lovelies.

Many thanks for our beautiful friends Taryn Pimento and Margo Foster for this amazing privilege.

Stay yourself and keep the love alive.

Happy Diwali - 2067 is here Hindu homies!

Best wishes to all and have a FAB year!!! Let there be light!

Freedom to Fall

Life can be a scary process. Learning to be aware is alarming and the issue of  freedom is never not in question. Whether we belong to ourselves or whether we chop ourselves into little pieces, then neatly package ourselves with bows and place our souls for sale, we still have to carry value for ourselves for what's inside the box. We are our own to unwrap. We are all made of great beauty. Some are thought prettier, some are simply smarter - but we all have worth.

I have learned that though life can be care-free, I prefer to care.

We can walk away knowing that we chose the way we thought was better, only to find out that we hesitated about change. Growing is an illusion, we must simply fulfill our destiny fearlessly.

While some maintain that life is unfair and cruel, we have the choice to achieve and rise above our challenges, personal and professional. No one said that working hard was easy. No one claimed that it would be clear to get too the truth.

Take a silent moment, feel breath enter and then release - the solution to everything is let it go if it hurts. Don't run away from pain because it is an inescapable reality.

Millions of people will never know the power of love to heal, to release the disappointments in tears, the pain it took to grow more.

When we are younger it is much easier to identify growth - we grow taller, grow hair in inconvenient places, everyone tells us that we look bigger. We do not stop growing even as adults, nor should we. If something falls from reach, we must grow a longer reach.

Keeping the faith is often a test of our strength to believe in embracing the unknown valleys that lay ahead. There is light even in the darkest of places, just look.

Aphordite's Metamorphoses

Times may be unsettled in our growth, we may wave along like a ship at sea. Remember you can always depend on my love, no matter how far from shore we may be. It feel conflicted when I see you in pain, with a kind of energy which feels drained. If I could, I would, kiss all your worries away, remind you like a bird in your ear that everything will be ok. Stay a while more and I will prove to you that I am not like a leaf in the wind. I don't wanna fly away from you, simply just change colours with you. By your humble side I shall follow you into the ocean of love's sea.

Ill Nana in Xtra

Come check out and support Ill Nana if you are in the T-Dot! Fresh Blood is a series dedicated to emerging choreographers, only the best.

See my piece on them here and visit Harbourfront Centre website for more information.

Cuba 2010

If perfection is grace, than here in this land I have found this space. When clouds appear, they never stay for long. The sky may open up to release rain, but the rain is unlike any I have ever felt before. It renews you, it is warm and full of love and life. Just like the people I have met here in Cuba, each day I spend here feels kind and inspirational. Waking up to look outside the window to the glow of the magnificent sun, watching the palm trees dance and fresh coconuts hang from the limbs of their hearts. This is a state of constant great, for if you are here you can't help but smile at the marvel of Mother Nature's creationism and Father Oceans limitlessness of maintaining life. I wish all Westerners could experience a moment of time here, for I think it would make magnetic, frivolous worries disappear. Everything is more beautiful than the capture of  words or the snap of a picture- you can't smell the air this way, nor feel the mist of a tropical rain fall om the surface of your skin. If the sky is grey, the warmness of the people and their personality distract any feelings of grumpiness and charge a patience and promise that soon enough the sun will return to smile on the land. The rhythm of the music inspires smiles all around, the motioning of hips swaying from side-to-side resembles watching a penny circle around a well. This alive paradise is where you can find natures perfection, peace and inherent happiness through the way that life is lived each day. Thank you for the memories, forever they will stay.

3 Lastest in Xtra

Hello friends!

I have forgotten to post my latest pieces in Xtra, so here they are! The article on comedian Shawn Hitchins came out today. Enjoy!

1.  Shawn Hitchins is a Single White Douche
2. Embracing 20 years of ASAAP
3. LemonTree's Still Life

Camera Obscura

I have a glow because I believe you can save me. I think that you were sent to me, and I am open to welcome your influence on me. Hazy, inhale me and smoke me like a sizzling joint. Let my lips burn the tips of you fingertips as I whisper love and you see that I am swallowed by you to be a fleshy peach. Push between your thighs, open the magic door to heat.

To have me, to hold me, I have never loved you more. I bask at the site of knowing that you love me too. When you look at me you really see who I am.

Like a picture that stands still, as the camera flashes the frame. Every time I think of beauty I see your name, each time I exhale my breath I feel you move me through me - my veins, my blood, my ebbs and my flows. With you by my side I am present and it is a gift.

Never go away, I love you.

Queen of Hearts

Love is a most interesting energy. It seems the more often we allow love into our lives with surrender, the more powerful it grows as a source of power and enlightenment in our lives.

If you would have asked me after my first break-up if I knew what love was, I would have said yes. The break-up pain I experienced, I remember as if it were yesterday - I felt like an injured soldier waiting in the trenches for death to come and take her away.

In retrospect, I now realize that as wisdom grows with age, so does our capacity to love. The more we are shown love in kindness, the more we can love others. When we are mature and experienced enough to really understand the commitment and work it takes to make a partnership last, all of a sudden we come to terms with understanding that love does not work within the realm of control.

Instead, love is gentle and free, she may come and she may go. She can be wicked and she can be a source of nutrition for your soul. Through it all one thing remains true: after we really can value love for what it is - a devotion towards caring for someone other than ourselves, a commitment to ride through the rough patches and always gain the strength to reach the sky again. Feeling each breath fill and circulate in the width of our chests, we can never be the same again.

Love be a lady tonight.

Coming of Age

Money is a funny thing, it seems the quicker it comes, the quicker it is spent. I grew up in a very middle-class household and I often watched my parents struggle to pay the rent. I'm sure that if it was not for my mom's uncompromising work ethic, we could have easily fallen behind the fence of poverty margins. I am not going to be dishonest; I saw many tears and fears from my mom over the years. Often I heard arguments around how she solely was going to support the family when my dad became a victim of mental illness on one hand, but also selfishly decided to stop being a productive member of society and providing for his family. For many years I resented him, he was cruel and watched her work so hard with little regard besides a grumble of what was for dinner when she got home. Not forgetting the abuse of tongue that spat at her more often than not from his venom.

Last week my mom retired. I don't know how this makes me feel- it is so complicated. On one hand I'm so happy that she finally gets to relax after years of being the glue that kept our family afloat. She especially kept and continues to keep my dad cared for even in his most abusive periods of self and others. Beyond this sentiment I also feel fear, as the constant reminder falls with the coming of her retirement of aging and ailment in the form of a bad knee she's developed after being on her feet for 8 hours a day for the past 20 plus years.

At work I get calls from her already saying that she is bored and that she worries of spoiling and becoming old now that she's retired. She refuses to become still and pushes herself to even take small walks daily.

This is the first time I have heard her express complete fear of aging. I can't help but have my stomach sink a little and my eyes fill with tears. For all the years of worrying she did about me, about us, I now worry about her. I wish to protect her like I always have, but now I also want to be a rock for her like she was and continues to be for me each day.

I urge you not to take your parents for granted, to help them in any way you can. Any small gesture counts from a phone call to sending them some cash if they are in need.

I know I won't forget my moms care and to care for her today, tomorrow and the next day. She more than deserves it.

Float

I don't seem to sink well. It seems I am better made to float back to the top. Mentality is a choice and we all have a choice to chose how we feel. What hinders us as people is the interference of things outside ourselves, unless we are self-obsessed (in which I can't help your soul either way).

In one split moment it fell on me that it I needed to steal back my time and it's time to take control.

I'm back again.

Self-Massacre

Michelangelo, "la furia" (The Fury)

Who have I become? I am not the person I envisioned myself to be at this point in the game. How come I feel more sad than I have in a longtime? Why can't anyone properly pronounce my name? I moved forward in good faith, my heart tucked away as my compass and my good intentions as the beacon I thought to highlight my way - but it seems that I have not really come too far at all.

Lately I have been feeling like a failure, not someone I am proud to call a carnation of me. My mind feels stagnant, I am frustrated that I have yet to finish my degree and pursue the passion I have for history as a career path that is meant to be. Historical sexuality brings such out-pour from me.

This feeling sinks in my circuitry and it resembles a momento from the past that I never wanted to see again; helplessness without the focus to regain concentration and get back on the train.

I don't feel excited when I see my writings published anymore, I am not sure if I am really helping anyone with my thoughts afterall. I am not usually like this, I am compromised, vulnerable and in a weaken state. I feel embarrassed that I can't just shake it off and move away from the confusion and the pain.

A hit of a wooden bamboo stick across the side of my head. I lay in the gutter and what sinks into me is  falling away. I look in the mirror and I am sure that something has gone wrong. I push my loved ones away for when I am like this I want to be alone in my misery without impacting those around me.

I swear I am not usually like this, maybe all the pressure, disappointments and routine to work only to pay is making me fade away.

Route 29

29 times around the track and somehow she had managed to keep her breath, for the most part.
29 rounds she had danced around the ring avoiding most blows, but sometimes being impacted by a hit and hiding the bruises that lurked below the surface of her skin.
29 times she had held her heart in her hands and asked mercifully why it hurt so much to love.
29 times she had healed with her unfaltering faith that aligned with her everlasting faith in love.
She imagined how she, the little girl that had become a young woman would be when she was 29 -  the only sentiment that she sang was a feeling of protection and pride for her little young lady.
It was close to the 29th that she has found the gray ball of fur that would become her first born responsibility to understand affection beyond human capacities.
29 times she had asked for help when her own senses became deaf to seeing what it is that she really saw and felt, each 29 times her family and friends had pulled her through.
29 jobs she had tried, some she has liked other she came to dread, yet somehow she still found a shoe that fit her petite flat foot.
All 29 years she saw the beauty and then pain, flushed out the miserable and tried to regain honesty in training herself to be that which moved away from the pain.
For 29 minutes she looked in the mirror and felt fat.
29 tracks around the lap and now she was looking back.
In the constellations she sought guidance as to what the next 29 laps bring, or would there even be 29 more before extinction became evident and her body became dust?
29 years she had seen the strongest, bravest and kindest woman in her mothers eyes.
Where did she have left to go, nobody knows but 29 had gone by, she knew this for sure.

Pridometer

It is official friends, my ass is old - I realized this when I thought about the fact that this is my 11th Pride in Toronto. 11 is a pretty mature number, wouldn't you say?

With all the squalor and scandals around the this years festivities, like many I sat with the moral dilemma of wondering if I had any interest in spending my money at events that did not support the freedom of expression and politics.

Obviously the Israeli apartheid dialogue created quite a stir among conscience queers, and I agree that queers were not without merit in being pissed about this decapitation from the grassroots movement of what Pride stood for in the past: a platform to speak differences, to be heard, and to force those who did not want to listen to hear.

Aside from the corporatization of Pride and the trademark floats with men and women dressed in gear that would hopefully make your mommy blush, Pride is a moment to sit and reflect about how lucky we are as Canadians to be able to hold our partners hands on the street without fear of being put into jail, about being open to show love with another human being despite the fear of feeling outcast or alien. Pride is about coming together as a diversity of sexualities, backgrounds, intellects and experiences to show that we all have a common cause of togetherness in a world that is often full of such hatred and judgment.

I did not party as hard as I have in my younger days this year at Pride. I did not hit-up any events that were hosted by Pride Toronto, but I did take advantage to the unique atmosphere that is created across communities, both straight and gay. I took the time to see the queers and friends that I love and who have supported my queerness over the past 11 years. We drank, laughed, hugged and caught up about those special moments that we have missed in each others lives. Friends from near and far showed that they are true friends, each year they have always been at these celebrations with me.

I also made new friends and I am thankful for being given that chance to show them who I am, a complicated and simple queer ethnic dyke and strong, independent woman.

I took a moment to squeeze my girlfriends hand and tell her I love her as I past other queer women, I applauded those who walked in heels that my dyke-ass could never handle with such poise, I smiled and all my coloured brothers and sisters and exchanged a thought - we sure have come a long way, but lets not forget that there is always need to reach for higher ground.

Applaud the freedom we have as queers living in Toronto but stop segregating those in the community from feeling a sense of belonging. Gender is a thing of the past when it should come to organizing social events, lets love be free to flow into safe spaces where we can all show that our affection reaches beyond a hook-up or simply standing for ourselves without regard for anyone else.

In Pride together we should stand, hand in hand, heart to heart, mind to mind. Let this be an open freedom call to queers to voice the causes and woes of those less fortunate, of those living in constraints and always remember the struggles of those queers that came before us.

Be full of pride each day.

Precious Pussycat

Sometimes I worry. I look at the way that things are around me and it makes me realize that nothing is perfect. I can't keep all those who I want to keep safe, safe, nor can I offer them immortal life and eternal health.

When I realize that peace is sometimes in a state of flux, I withdraw into deep breath; I have to remind myself that everything is gonna be alright. I guess that all I do have is hope.

I clip her nails and I notice her little grey lip is sore. I wonder why I haven't noticed it before. Cats need love and care too. We all need love and care.

I love her more than I imagine I could love a creature that is not human. She has been my best friend for years, she has stuck by me through my changes in tide and direction. I can always depend on her to look at me with her kind eyes and show the such gratitude for the most simple things, like fishy food and clean water.

When I found her she was just skin and bones, now she is under my skin and I feel her in my bones. She is my daughter, she is my darling.

When she rolls over on her back I roll her around like a sausage in the pan, she purrs with sweet delight and I understand in that moment how strong our bond has grown. She has touched my life in ways she will never know. I am proud to have her as part of our home.

Mama loves you Grey Goose.

The House of Provocation's Makeover!

Hello darlings! Though I became quite attached to the look of the disco dots that hosted T-HOP for the past few years, as I have changed and evolved so much I only think it is fair that my blog does too!

TADA! After careful consideration and thought, The House of Provocation has got a new sleek look! I would love to know what you think, so please share with me - even if you are not fond of it!

To my royal readers I say this - thank you for sticking with my words over many ups and downs, rounds and rounds in my life. I will continue to try and feed your hunger for provocation with an endless craving.

To new beginnings and fancy makeovers!!! Cheers.

Scorpion

The days seemed to move slower than before. Her butterflies flew into the garden full of willow trees where the scent lingered of moments that had past her by, an echo of remembering spontaneous laughter and whispers that professed love and endless desire. Though she tried to feel relaxed, something felt like a scorpion in her tummy, groping her intestines and slowly making way into her chest. She knew that something was just not right, but she also remembered that she held the most beautiful white pearl in the world in her care. Tempers flared like nostril, moments that seemed fine soon ended up taken over by the word "sorry." It hurt inside and venom that spun from the sting of the scorpion inside made her mutter: "I am now powerless. I have nothing left to say. I love you but simply don't feel happy this way. Here I bend over and lay."

New Jack Playback: Keith Sweat "Twisted"

Shoot, this jam be my old skool guilty pleasure! Sure he sing from his noise and sounds like a frog, but I love the song and I know all the words to his "rap!"

Moth to a Flame

5 DAYS ON, 2 DAYS OFF. It had all become tedious at the hands of the controller, the rules, the rules. When she came to realize where she was in the line, finally it came to thought for her to look back and realize how many also stood in line with her.

VOTE HERE: When one reaches the counter one is to pick up a slip. There are 4 boxes, 3 of which are irrelevant (to make belief that there is a choice). The one that is appealing says "Sell your soul for something unknown." Check it. X it.

She had always sat thinking about love. What was all this talk about seeking oneself within the crowd? Sometimes life could feel like a curse when she thought of the load that sat on her petite, slightly invisible shoulders.

Crunch assignments into a timeline that would make it possible to market brainwash as appealing - think Lady Gaga glam meets Nazi propaganda! The site would be remarkable. Do it.

Crashing. She needs a fix. Coffee? The same stale faces each day. 10:01am she made it an hour through the day. 1:42pm left. 3:38pm right. Collectively she sinks with them beneath the sun to explode quicker. They turn down the light of an already down fading star. Glamor comes to those only with youth and white skin or light skin.

Fitting in requires standing out as the same. The same old. The same old.

________________________________

"Sorcery! She's a witch, burn her! Can't you see, she temps them with the thoughts of orgies, fornication, illicit fucking! Her breasts are soothers that lay on many mouths to make them believe that their male units require the attention of such a devious, carnal, evil woman's company."
_________________________________

Her redemption song comes in the form of endless love, delivered in the heat of the precious, strong and nurturing woman laying on the pasley pillow next to her each night. The universe feels alive, she feels this love of hers everywhere, so much.
_________________________________

"I am guilty, I am guilty of laying with my lover with such satisfaction, feeling every crevice of my body feel thick with wetness from the simple thought of her. I am guilty of sucking her rosy breasts with my eyes closed to see a world unseen birth in my mouth, each suck making me addicted to her spell over, under and in me."

"Fuck me baby, don't stop, please I beg you. I am a victim without your love to call my own. Take me over. Set me on fire."

Queer West Arts Festival 2010!

It is that time of year again: the sun is shining and queers want to come out and play! Why not see some amazing and provocative art along the way?

This year I will be the Media & Public Relations person for Queer West Arts Festival.

Come to The House of Provocation for the latest updates and also visit Queer in the City for the latest!

Here is the official media release for what we have in store for this year!

(Sunday May 23, 2010. By Parul Pandya, Queer West Media Spokesperson and Casey Reid, Program Director of Queer West Film Festival.)

August 2010 will mark the 5th annual QUEER WEST ARTS FESTIVAL - this year QUEERING BOUNDARIES will be the vision to initialize a wide-scale community reinvention. Though it is certainly important that gay, lesbian, bi & trans individuals express individualities, uniqueness and differences, this year’s festival will promote a central platform to create inclusiveness and communication between these groupings. Limits typically placed on a queer identity will be explored and re-explored in an effort to move away from "Queer" as a singular, often fixed, and essential identity.

The Queer West Toronto community is committed to ushering in a necessary and more contemporary attitude in reaction to the ever-changing threads of fiber that fashion the notion of “queer” in its entirety. The festival will view the complexity of queer identity beyond set places, spaces and community settings and bring diversity to the forefront of all programming. Art and performance will be utilized as the vehicle to show queer identity as a contested space. Though the theme is Queer Boundaries, where and how those boundaries are formed is subjective. The Queer West community emphasizes a sharing of space and the exchanging of ideas as a political act, within and outside of the Queer West Village.

Though queers may converge and diverge on particular spaces to create a community, the heart of the festival is to emphasize however different our identities, we all share our humanity. To mark this historic event, Toronto's "West End" will be (re)claimed, (re)presented and (re)named as "queer" over the course of 8 days (Saturday August 7 to Sunday August 15, 2010). Artists and performers will convey genuine and relative ideas across multi-disciplinary forms to entertain, educate and enlighten.


Festival Contact Information:
Festival Program Coordinator & Volunteers - Jaclyn Isen - queerwestfest@gmail.com
Film Festival Program Director - Casey Reid - qwfilmfest@gmail.com
Sponsorships - Michel Paré - queerwestinfo@gmail.com
Literary Events - Philip Cairns - fullmoon@auracom.com
Media & Public Relations - Parul Pandya - queerwestfestmedia@gmail.com
Visual Arts Curator - Brian McCurdy - qwfingerpaint@gmail.com

Nature City

1920 Toronto, Queen St. from Old City Hall

Sit and reflect all that you knew you thought you knew. Spring brings with it such a height of symphony and sounds...in the town where city is in nature. Charcoal birds with turquoise beaks flying above the streetcar, and the bell it rings. Silence falls on the dusk like dawn when your skin scoops a coco feel of smooth brown butter.

I am not meant to live outside my comforts necessity, the Bible swore to be such a conveyor of the truth. I am told by gossip and control and all religions said something (including those Christians) about charity and kindness - I do not need a religion to define my faith.

Air passes through space with memory of feeling touched with ocean coolness. Kisses of flowers nibble of my nose leaving an itch even after taking allergy medicine.

It is funny how the richest in tongue and mind are often the ones who die without ever being recognized for their virtue.

Paris Hilton, hiccup. Burp.

The sky peels into vision as the site of a marmalade bee hustles by looking for human flesh.

Fear let it go. Panic, let it pass.

The noises of the city have to fade in order to get in touch with nature.
The city reminds me why I keep my game tight and my mind infinite.

Green grass burn.

Blazing through the traffic lights like no one is worthy of passing you. Eyes of a curious onlooker feeling the sensation of your thigh and you realize that all is all.

Dear Darling

I hope you don’t mind if I watch you a little while.

Seeing you smile brings such a peace to my heart, it makes all my mistakes seem like a faded memory of time. Please don’t rush yourself to get out of bed, lay with me a little while longer. I want to be lost in you, I want to need in you, I want to be here with you. I feel as though when you look at me, I can see the beauty of gracious love, the unwillingness of my hearts journey to give up on love. I have waited for you to come, now you are here with me.

I admire your strong, defined body as you rest in the glaze of the sun that comes in from the skylight above our bed. I sigh and take a deep breath as I am doing yoga deep in my hearts integrate threads, reinforcing that you are real and this is a dream that has become actuality. You and I, it sounds as natural as the sound our lips make when they caress.

I would never ask you to do more than you already do, for you do so much more than I thought I could ever receive and wish to deserve. You are love and kindness.

I am grateful for you each day. I never wake-up without compassion for the universe for helping to guide you my way.

You are my best friend.

Lady Liberty

Get me through the day.
You don't know who I am when you stare at me with such repair.
I neither need to be fixed, nor do I care to hear the empty words that fall from your forced smile.
Why do you fear me? Is it that I have something you disapprove of, do I make you feel uninterested?
Open your mind to me and you may find that I have a very strong point of view, that I am someone beautiful and full of worth bricked in knowing the truth.
Numbers crunch to tell that I am incorrectly balanced, that humans are scientific creatures trying to survive in a human world.
Sell me your soul and I will grant it the access to fall at my feet and be lifted.
I will not let my spirit fail me, so believe in me.
I will go my way and you are welcome to come with me.
Hurt.
Let go.
The best person you can be in still in store.
Rise up. Free.

Soul Beyond Death

I have learned many things in my 28 years so far, in this lifetime. However I wonder how much of our knowledge we are able to carry-on from past (life) experiences? Let me clarify what I mean by this statement: I don't know if I take re-incarnation as a literal act, however I do think that our energy (soul) does live beyond the days of our bodies and leaves in impact on the things that we have come in contact with over a lifetime. This energy can also attract itself to new devices after death to take other living form(s) - whether a new body or a beautiful purple flower.


Like an apple sliced, I think the core energy of our being continues to survive beyond death, while little 'slices' of it remain to left behind in objects, people and spaces that you had filled when you were alive in all your carnations, and felt a strong connection with. This could be a reason why people say after a love one is deceased, that they continue to feel that person's presence.

No matter what religion you come from, even if you don't believe in re-incarnation, I wonder if you think this could be true? What do you think?

Have you ever seen someone that you swear you have seen somewhere else? Have you ever felt eerie when you entered a certain place, but were not sure why you were feeling this way?

I believe that we will live forever, not in life but in spirit.

To those I love, I give a little piece of my soul to always remember, Parul Pandya.

New Jack Playback: SWV "Weak"

Sigh. So good. Remember those 90's styles?

Stereotypes: Stimulating, Cruel & Fun!

Stereotypes are an amusing form of making observation based on habitual nature mixed with healthy hateration and bigotry. At the risk of misunderstood like Lauryn Hill, I want to make clear that I am able to admit that I am often quite vicious in nodding my head at particularly race and sexuality stereotypes. Don't hate me for having a mind, hate the world for making me intelligent enough to identify humour in situations and in people!

I am not a stranger to discrimination. From when I was a child I had people throw typecasting at me in order to make themselves feel more natural and powerful. When I was a wee lezzy in England the white kids would call me brown bread by yelling it across the street while I walked home. At the time this devastated me, but in retrospect I am thinking it ain't such a bad thing after all! I wish I could go back to that scenario and say "well at least I taste good, I am full of nutrients compared to your bleached white ass! Wonder Bread, please you ain't got nothing on me." I wish I could make those kids eat rye or pumpernickel bread and choke just a little, until they were red in the face and I could make a spectacle of them. I know retribution can be tacky but in this case it would be sweet karma!

Then there is the case of the paki dot. When I was young and had chicken pox I ended up picking one on my forehead that left a scar - naturally this became the making of what the white kids would call my paki dot. Again I would love to go back to today and say "you stupid little cackers, Paki's come from Pakistan, I am actually born in England, my parents in Africa and I am Gujrati, does that mean anything to your uneduacted ass? Why don't you go home and play with your swastika-making kit."

On the other hand I will not deny the stereotypes that I myself am guilty of when people do point them out. Firstly the Indian head bobble! Yes I do it, even when I bust a move on the dancefloor I implement the booble-bobble-backslap into my choreography.

Also don't think that when I lived with my parents I did not leave the house smelling like the back on a Mississauga Transit bus; yes curry potpourri sprung from my pores to give those around me a strong and pronounced headache. Yes when I was young I called my mother and father's friends uncle and auntie, but never papa g or mama g!

Then there is the whole identity of being queer. As the Queen of Queer I am obviously a fierce defender of queer rights and freedoms, however I can also admit that queers can be the most irritating and messily exaggerated projection of what being gay or lesbian is about. No girl, you are a girl, take off the elastic band that you use to hold in your giant tatas, it makes you look like Spongebob Squarepants! Free your breasts and the rest will follow. Also just cause you don't want to wear lip gloss it don't give you the right to have crusty lips - moisturize! If those kneecaps are as ashy as those dehydrated, flagellated lips, I am done with your ass!

Oh fags, oh fags. Stop dancing like dancing queens. Janet Jackson choreography is not suppose to be soft like tender assholes. Dance hard like cock! Oh and the styles I see are just not ok! We are lucky that many of the worlds famous designers are queer because if it wasn't for them, people would really realize that both queer men and women tend to look like they are as confused about their wardrobe as they did when they penetrated or fingered by another for the first time. If you stick it in remember it comes back out. Stay in the closet if you are gonna be a hot mess - I don't need you on my team of representation.

I hope you have enjoyed reading my ramblings from the contents of my explicit and sometimes cruel mind. Now go slap an ugly gay and have a lovely day!

Heart Attack

Have you ever been in love with someone so deeply that you felt as thought you were missing a part of yourself when you were apart? I know some may say this is a sign of codependency, even call it pathetic, but I am telling you that if you knew what I know and felt what she makes me feel, you would understand how unexpectedly she has become the centre of my happiness. She deserves me and I am hers alone.

I can’t sleep without her heat coming into me when our naked bodies are pressed together through the night. She is gentle, she is warm, her talents are fruitful and I am privileged to watch her grow.

She encourages me to be a wiser woman and also allows me to come clean with my fears and hesitations at times when I feel compromised. When I come apart, when I begin to tumble down towards the ground, she is always there to take me into shelter by opening her chest and allowing me into her heart. I feel safe with her by my side, so safe that at times I fear being homeless, displaced if she is ever to go away from here.

I want to say to her: “Shine on me dear baby, lead me through the endless corridors of life, meet me at each wrong turn I take to kiss me and tell me that you will lead me back to the safety of your arms. I need you so much it makes me cry, when I think of how deeply your love encourages me to reflect the eternal wisdom of the moonlight.”

I will kiss her every time with every ounce of passion I can conjure just so she always remembers how I feel - just in case tomorrow I die, I want her to know, I will carry a piece of her heart with me away if she permits me to do so.

I feel an abundance of complicated emotions when it comes to her, I feel weak and vulnerable, unlike myself at all sometimes. Usually I am tough, I am blunt, I am independent and agile in mind. I don’t know if this is healthy, I feel like I am loosing my mind.

Don’t try and save me, it is too late to turn back now. Forever she will remain engraved into my soul as the women who opened me to a plethora of visceral sensations and became the consort of my longings realizations.

Evidence of Greatness

Leaping up and around, she settles into the room by taking her a-symmetrical jacket off. She is smooth like a glass of J Lohr. She doesn’t seem to get twisted in anybody else’s moments, only her own. The moments may be divine if she chooses them to feel that way. Clicking of the clock the arms strike 9:43pm. A step is taken backwards into the real future of her dreams.



Her gloves are red leather; they show that sex, sexuality and intelligence is worn confident. So her tits weren’t as perky as the white girl with the great gleuts at the gym. Fuck that. She rowed just as hard to get ahead. For sometimes it felt like there were a million bright ideas dancing in her head and highlighters were meant to scribble them out. She rode harder than a horse.

The tap of a finger on glass echoes alongside the sound of others laughter. A smile appears on her face. Her laughter fills inside her breasts, her eyes as well. If she were a star she knows it would be a bright one. She came from the past.

Self-Employee

If one journey is about to end, is it only natural that another begins? Each day we spend so much of our time dedicating ourselves to our employers. Yes, the place that most of us spend 8 hours a day, 5 days a week, and others even more. I have never stayed in one place for too long, that is the way that my jobs have unraveled before me. Some would say that I am a woman of many hats that is driven by my passion to support the arts and artists.

I have never been someone who won't accept a new challenge, or go somewhere that is outside of my acquired skill sets. I think it is good to push yourself to be the best that you can be professionally, to learn by watching those who are experts in their fields--while also spending time becoming better at what it is that you have been given the responsibility of doing.

There is a fine line that needs to be drawn when is comes to your self-respect and your workplace. You see, I know that I am not just a menial worker who pushes button and delivers good without never knowing what is in the package. As I have grown older I have come to see that I no longer want to just work for an organization that utilizes me but that also values me.

I really appreciate the independence that has emerged for me as a part-time freelance worker, I am the master of my own will. This is a very empowering and testing position to be in; essentially the time and effort you put in as a freelancer drives only your personal results, not that of another's organization. I encourage all creative minds, those with a passion that they have buried because they became a part of the Borg collective to remember who they are. Make time to fulfill your dreams the way you had thought of seeing them being realized when you were a youth and saw yourself in the future. Now is the future, you hold the power. Make that change.

14 Minutes

This wasn’t the time to dick around. “I want you to fuck me go good,” she said. I planned on it. I had sat there all day in my own wetness, with thoughts of her hot yoga body pressed all against my breathing skin. I had fantasized of her on top of me, her stomach erect towards the ceiling and her beautiful pink breast bouncing from side to side. I would glimpse to the side to see her tattooed leg and that would make me even more in the zone. She says to me “feel how wet I am,” and I let her slide my hand down her thighs and I know when I have hit the wetland of her call. She is soaking, she is dripping. She moans to me, “this is what you do to me.” I reply, “oh god.” I growl and I feel such an cannibalistic urge to want to pound her pussy and have her cream all over my hand, swallow her whole. I slip one finger into her, spreading her voluptuous vagina lips and the warmness quickly causes me to want more. More feel, more motion, I wanna taste her all over my face. “You do me so good, ya baby,” she mumbles as I watch her beautiful stomach pace in and out. I breathe in her scent, it smells like raw sex. “I wanna eat you,” she says, but I refuse. I wanna please her, she is pleasing me by just laying there with her beautiful body unveiled to my pressing desires. I can feel the moisture tipping my clit as I slide in and out of her glorious insides. I can’t take it anymore, I flip her on to her back, if I am gonna fuck her, I am gonna do it deeply and softly, just like she wants it. I hear her say my name and I tense my back into an arch, I know she likes seeing my big tits dance across her chest. I work her up a little more before it is time to go down, down to the place where all life begins, down to the place where I drink the substance that retains life in all my functions. I giggle, she looks up. “Now,” I tell her, “I am going to make you cum like a bitch.” 14 minutes later my promise is realized with her beautiful release and the words “baby I love you so much.”

An Imperfect Heritage

Augmented, fragmented, forever protection.
Yelling, stirring, frustration, irritation.
Falling flowers, mimicking features.
Flaring noses, feeding 6 mouths.
Wooden table, a box of wine.
Crooked suspenders, feet tapping to a beat.
She needs more tender love.
Memorizing, forgetting, forgiving.
Brothers, Sisters, Mother, Father.
Forever.

The Hike

Miles and miles are traveled over a lifetime. Miles and miles are never seen. The powdered snow leads a path into the forest, astray from the noise of the city, open to natures arms. The silence holds still and all that is heard is the sound of rustling leaves and footsteps that tread forward with curiosity. I manage to walk with more freedom in my conviction, the air is as fresh as the spring rain caressing the tips of an orange gerber flower opening her smile to reach towards the sun. Here I have come to escape, here I have come to escape the movements of shadows that hustle down common, dirty streets, streetcars passing by with no regard for who they carry. A moment of meditation catches me when I feel exhilarated by the climbs that steps ahead of me. I am tired, my feet are sore but she keeps pushing me to go forward without looking back. I slide over my sunglasses and I am instantly blinded by the sharpness of the suns rays that bounce off the untouched snow. This is not the moment to feel anything, instead it is an opportunity to marvel at all the living nature that feels alive itself. Sometimes I forget to cherish all the beauty that exists without needing to be stroked or raised. The resiliency of this iron solitude shows the wisdom that is held in the branches of each tree, the truth that is open to the sky by each blade of grass. Red, purple, green, white and blue. We may describe our sentiments in colour and in creationism colours really do exist as true. I look up and watch the trees as they sway with mood, the unevenness of the hills that lay ahead and remain uncompromisingly smooth. I find myself drifting in and out of my body, it is not the time to feel tired now. She has welcomed me to walk through her glory and across her chest. She has asked me to remember the eternity of life and its ability to water our minds. I am tired but I feel alive. The sweat that drips down my brow, I feel the shortness of breath that gasps in my throat with me. I take away with me the silence of her call even on the loudest of days.

Mistress of the Kitchen

She feeds me with so much food for thought. Watching her in the kitchen is much like watching a genius painter plan colour palettes for a next masterpiece. Chopping and slicing, stirring and pinching, she manages to somehow make my mouth water at the thought of having her tastes in my filled cheeks. I watch from the couch as she fiddles around and sculpts her creation of the day. Walnuts, mushrooms (because she knows they are my favourite) kale, nutmeg, tomatoes, spinach, olive oil, pumpkin seeds, garlic and glutton-free pasta she reveals in excited banter to me, are just a few of the features that excite the plate that is soon to be marked with the devouring of my spoon. I never thought a white woman would be able to make soul food, but that is what she whips up, it's true! Even after a long day of work she will come through the door, take off her backpack and shoes, not relax for a moment and cook with passion and devotion healthy jewels. I try and tell her how much I enjoy her cooking, however I am not sure how much she really gets how much I really do. Her cooking is my favourite. The palette of flavours are as sophisticated as her in a Banana Republic high-waisted black skirt with white pearl earrings that were once worn by her lovely grandmother. The essence of taste that seeps into your cheeks are as delightful as her laughter when I tickle her at night.

I think her food bares the beauty of her soul in solid form. I smile all way to work when I carry her heartfelt lunch in my bag. Embarrassingly, I get giddy at my desk when I think of what maybe inside. Her recipes have me greedily satisfied. She is more sweet a pepper than I could ever ask for. Only her menu make my tastes bud.

I open the fridge door when she is not there and everything seems stale before being touched by her magical hands. She maybe vegan, yes that means no animal products at all, but the richness of her cooking does not suffer at all.

The Power of Words & Silence

I never thought that the stroke of my luck would come in the sharpness of my words stabbing into others minds. I have been told all my life that I had a gift to gab but more often than not, I never thought anything about it. Words were the pillows of my thoughts, dreams, hopes and the rest of me. I never thought anything of it.

Today I speak, I look at others in the eyes when I allow the harmonies of each consonant and vowel fall from the markers on my mouths anxious release. I keep on speaking, I keep on thinking about what is was that I have to say, what it is that I need to say. I have to clear the weight off my chest and let the others know that I am here to provoke them and myself. I am never shy to talk or perform. The nervous jitters that mark your skin before you go on to the world stage seem to fade when I let go of the fear of what others think. I think. This was not about them, this was about me and my endless journey towards finding the highest creativity.

When I sleep beside her at night I have no words. I sit up and I look at her and I am speechless. I touch her and instead of feeling momentum, I feel still in the care of her tenderness. She teaches me with something new each day without always pressing her words. When I get greedy of her she reminds me to let her be free and grow so that she can return to me willingly. We speak in body language in moments when our desires overcome the rationalism of expression, no matter how verbose and articulate the diction.

She tells me "I desire every touch of your fingers on my pale skin. It fills me. I want to die in your arms." All of a sudden I seem to gain back words with a question in mind: could this be the beginning of a great unconditional love? Marc Antony and Cleopatra, I know how they must have felt. There is nothing discreet when your heart has nothing left to do but sing the gospel of loves tail.

My Latest in Xtra: Single & Secure

Though I am no longer a single lady, when I wrote this piece I was! I am lucky I found my She-ra.

I hope you enjoy (0: Please click here.

Nature vs. Nurture

If everything has an beginning and an end, the only thing infinite is the possibility of a new. For as many times as we repeat ourselves acting volatile, greedy, impetuous or cold, we have had the opportunity to adjust these hereditary behaviours and further our development by breaking formed habits.

I have been having some interesting conversations with people lately about their ideas of how we develop to be the people we are as adults, is it more nurture or nature? The response seems to be split when it comes to opinion, some say nature, others say nurture. For me the options themselves answer the question.

I think that nature and nurture are equally as important to one-another when formulating our personalities and choices. Nature is just that, natural, like survival instincts. Upon the first few months of our development we learn our "first round" of likes and dislikes. Now what I mean by the "first round" is that at this juvenile age we are still not as susceptible to the societal and behavioural pressures that teachers in school, the news, forums of institutionalization and so on will place on us. Moreover, the concept of morality (however much it is an ideal rather than a reality) has only vaguely come into play and this will also influence our psyches when we become more cognitive as children.

Nurture, like nature involves a level of psychology, but instead of being applicable to the public forum, I think nurture relies more heavily on the impact of your home upbringing - more directly relationship with family. They say that we repeat what we see and I think this is a feasible observation but not merely enough to be the only clutch to explain all human actions. While we can repeat what we see, we can also be outraged and discouraged by the way our parents and siblings were with us. Through the process of nurture we have the ability of changing ourselves in adulthood to break the pattern of what we disliked as youth.

As humans we are given education that will both enlighten us to be good people and teach us how to acquire selfishness so that we can gain through the fulfillment of what we think are merit desires. Nature and nurture are in a constant state of conflict with each other but the distribution of there impact is equally as vital in making us who we are.

Damyanti

Take a step back to see forward. Touch me deeply to see the surface of my emotions sink into a well of needed change. I have always been the anchor by her side. I am her protector and she is my idol.

Over the years so many tears were shed for the pain he caused us. She stood strong and kept a roof on the table and food on our plates. She is my saving grace, she is the one I am proud to call my own.

You see I am nothing extraordinary if you see her, she is the all-encompassing womb that realized me to be.

I see her age and her kindness remains forever young. Each day she rises around 8am, she then makes chai and fiddles in the kitchen, then showers, does her hair, puts on her make-up (not much at all, for she doesn’t need much to show the depth of beauty). Then she prays. I know she pray for me, my brother, my sister and I. She is mother.

She worries because she cares about our health, happiness and it hurts her to see us struggle. No woman can touch me more than her; no woman can replace her as the centrepiece of my heart.

Taking a step forward requires me to see how proud I want to make her of me. Love is everything she made of me.

Haiti 2010: Fury's Earthquake

Why does the world function if nobody really cares? This is a question we can all ponder once we realize the implications of death. The world is at a point where Mother Nature seems a bit pissed off by the fact that we have an apt to take for granted what you are given. Human nature, no?

It is time to wake-up. Now is the time for us to open our hands towards the togetherness. Everything that is worth something really hurts when lost. Healing is a necessity for survival and destruction is always unjust without at least the idea of hope. I am telling you brothers, I am telling you sisters...time is the essence/the time is now. Change towards peace and giving a damn.

I believe that we need to be good and kind. Karma is not only an idea it is nature. In life and death, joy and pain we attract energy. An earthquake shakes the whole world. An earthquake has just shaken the world of Haiti. Our world is our responsibility. Catastrophe is devastating and nature seems like it has a roar as loud as our need to build edifices of ego and stature. Nostradamus, dinosaurs. We all perish so life can continually evolve and we can be reminded that the fittest may survive longer but we are are mortal.

Through the concrete we need to dig to save our people. When stone falls on human bodies they are helpless. A woman living on the street trying to find shelter and hide her crying child from the bodies. Our power as humans needs to find us now. God help us help ourselves is what we should pray (or think if you're not religious).

I sat today to watch the news and I saw that the hospitals in Haiti have dead babies that have died before getting care. How does this happen through all the pretty pictures? You do yoga and I meditate cause we all need silence. You can’t ignore the cry of life asking for help. Animals, plants we are distinctive as humans because we have the means to have more advanced care for our world. More than the actual life that sustains us. Simple. Technology is nothing without cultured cause for it.

Hundreds of thousands die today in Haiti. This was the most fatal earthquake in two centuries. Help is a cry.