my co-worker wants to cast me as myself in a screenplay

i went to the womens’ centre after i got off work today, ate my dinner of leftover salmon and talked with rebecca as she finished up her daily tasks. she’s been busy tidying up old junk, purging the piles of crap from all the previous years of messy feminists: a big job, one i admire her for taking on. there was an envelope of photos that she was busy sorting through, all from the last groovefest, back in february of 2005. i have such ambivalent feelings about that event: i wanted to die from the stress of organizing it, but that was also the night laine told me she had a crush on me, and when we first kissed.

rebecca gave me a couple of the photos, cuz they were otherwise destined for the centres’ archives… a waste, don’t you think?

the one above is of mat and i, and i love it because i think we both look pretty sexy and crazy. that’s his suit i’ve put on over my dress (i’d actually spent most of the evening topless, painted silver and wearing a skirt i’d sewed outta bike inner tubes), and it looks like his hand is fondling my thigh. which it might have been… i was lost in a haze of pheremones and political heartache, and i’ve suppressed the memories.

it’s monday evening, and i’m at the campus computer lab, attempting to rouse my interest in writing an 8-10 page essay regarding some (any!) facet of south asian geography. i’m also half-heartedly waiting for return phone calls from assorted romantic interests; only half-heartedly though, because i’m tired and am thinking i’d like to sleep in my own bed by myself tonight.

i had a very social weekend, maybe more socially active than i’ve had in years. my summer project of being a conscientious and honourable slut has been progressing very well, but i’m not just referring to that: i simply had a lot of good conversations with good folks who i’d been wanting to talk with for awhile, people i’d been missing in my life. some of those conversations *did* take place in bed, but also at the midnight mystery ride, the world naked bike ride, the government street market… yeah, my depression’s lifted, and i’m feeling lucky again.

everything else i wanna write is just ridiculous waxing about lust and love, the kinda crap you’d all prefer i leave to my paper journal or drunken late-night bragging sessions… if you really wanna hear about it, give me a call and i’ll meet you @ logans.

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