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.

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"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."
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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.
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"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."