so many feelings

and the femme bear who writes about them

on the [over]use of the word love

It is easier to look you in the eyes than to look inside myself, I’m trying to hear what you have to say, I’m trying to make sense of this idea that we have used words too often for them to mean anything anymore. Maybe love itself is worth less than the word in itself.

I come to you with words hickey-ed in places you have yet to discover. I come to you cold half-eaten already frozen and microwaved twice. I come to you with ideas of who you are. I come to you still raw from my last skinning. I come to you cured and fermented. I tell you we are too young to feel this old.

I come to you with overextended tendons from holding myself open for all this time. I come to you ready to practice again. Maybe love is like science; you keep thinking you know all you’ll ever need to know about it til the next year brings you closer to a truth that will be dismantled again the year after that. Maybe every moment that we have lived has been preparation for this, maybe this is preparation for something else. 

Maybe we are canvasses stretched with sunlight as our painter. Maybe we are mere shadows of who we were. One thing is for certain: we will surprise ourselves with how little or how much we have to offer. Our arms are butterfly nets that fill the mason jars of our bodies with feelings we mistake for memories. Our arms are butterfly nets that confuse other butterfly nets for feelings. Our bodies are always trying to engulf one another. 

Perhaps it is our imperfections that justify repeating the same words and the same actions. Maybe we are still trying to figure out how to fix what went wrong with our first heartbreak. Maybe loving someone else is the only way to prove to ourselves that we are not broken. Maybe love is more conquerable than we thought, as we always seem to outlive it. Maybe love is unconquerable because regardless of outcome it leaves us feeling defeated. Maybe the singularity of love is not meant for whores and musicians.



Happy 2014
Tara McGowan-Ross

I’m the sort of person who goes into January excited about the prospect of a fresh and shiny new year, not horrified by the idea of my life slipping away from me. Also, I like New Year’s Resolutions. Once we’ve slept off our hangovers and the stores have reopened,…

i only read the 4th point cause it’s all that is needed

tip for dealing with anxiety:

take a shower. take all the time you need. your roommates are sleeping.

hang out in your room naked. wait for the phone to ring. wait for an e-mail to get sent.

remember your responsibilities. look for papers on which your responsibilities weigh. be reminded of other responsibilities. do not put clothes on. wait for someone to realize you are awake.

feel cold. do not put your clothes on yet. realize you are awake.


urbandictionary just enlightened me with the word “pomosexual” (pomo as in postmodern). have people used this word or seen it used? i’m wondering if anyone’s actually self id-ing that way or if it’s used more as an insult. I’m tempted to use it in situations, specifically academic(k)y ones, where queer is defined so nebulous-ly that it loses its socio-historical significance.

i know i’m over him because i bought two tubes of the toothpaste i used to use before buying his favourite.

sung to and based on Mirah’s Million Miles:

We wake up early to watch the sunrise
on a bridge competing with highrises
We wake to sexy surprises
there’s a conversation happening between our thighs

If the city was a million miles away
In a field with me would you stay?
If the city was a million miles away
With a garden snake and me would you stay?

When I ask what you’re thinking of
I’m hoping you’ll say “of you, my love”
I know it’s silly and foolish and cruel
It’s an awkward part of having fallen for you

If the city was a million miles away
On a rocky beach with me would you stay?
If the city was a million miles away
With slimy algae and me would you stay?

You’re six months ahead of me
in university and age
Yet you say you’ll wait for me
til I harvest all those A’s but

If the city was a million miles away
Under a canopy of trees with me would you stay?
If the city was a million miles away
With mosquitoes and me would you stay?

You like the hairs on my chin and
all the ways I stink
I like teasing and staring at you
'til you're red in the face

If the city was a million miles away
In a 2000 dollar house with me would you stay?
If the city was a million miles away
With spiders and ants and me would you stay?

You like to mark my skin with your teeth into
blues reds and purples and pinks
I like to use big words when I speak and
try to change the way you think

If the city was a million miles away
In a small town with big skies with me would you stay?
If the city was a million miles away
Would you stay?

Would you stay
Would you stay
If the city was a million miles away

y’know. just losing sleep on a self-loathing writing/performance project while listening to acoustic covers of everything. and cramps everywhere. and tears ‘cause i’ll never not be alone.

—my brain and its overuse of hyperboles.

what i did [instead of writing] this week.

anxiety decreasing tactics

1. Make coffee at 11am. Believe this will motivate you to do things that will distract you from worry.

2. Sweep and put away things on floor. Remember why some of that shit hasn’t been dealt with yet. Put it back on the floor, closer to the corner.

3. Avoid writing.

4. Question if you should drink your barely touched coffee considering it is 3pm and you want to be asleep at midnight.

5. Crop an old shirt. Chew on the unwanted pieces.

6. Pluck unwanted hairs. Consider putting makeup on.

7. Write, even when it’s mediocre.

8. Consider your brain as a separate entity. Let it indulge in memories.

9. Watch dog sleep.

10. Hear cars. See ambulance.

11. Think about what you’ll do if that thing that is worrying you happens. Stop yourself before any answers come.

12. Do not think about nudity. You’re still thinking about money.