“Fuck sexy” – the words written on the back of the seat in front of me, and I couldn’t agree more. Somehow I keep thinking of ‘sexy’ as a societal construct and of the general population’s habit, nay, addiction to mimicking and/or conforming to that construct. The whole idea leaves me wondering if there are any free-thinking human beings remaining, and if there are, just exactly how endangered are they? “Fuck sexy” indeed…
In another part of my world, phone call from Steven, and he’ll be here late July. I’ve been thinking of him recently, to the point that I emailed him, asking if there was anything going on with him, more concerned than curious. Apparently his email server has been down the last week and he hasn’t gotten my email, but the message found it’s way through the universe regardless of servers and dial-up, and he decided he’d better call. shrug These things happen in my world. I’m (somewhat) used to it.
Another day, another decision. Went wandering through the city on Saturday, ran into one old friend from university days, kept wandering on towards Aromas in the Wintergarden, and guess who should be standing in line in front of me? None other than Shane, the fabulous artist/performer/DJ whom I haven’t seen in about a year or so. Sat and chatted and drank coffee and caught up on the last year or so of changes and events and highs and lows, then wandered off towards home, feeling vastly refreshed, but just wanting more time alone to re-charge. That re-charge came my way in the form of Clay heading over to Cyndi’s for the night, they’re collaborating on music and by the time they’d finished, she was too tired to give him a lift home, so I got the “I’m just going to crash on the sofa, be home at about 7am” phone call at about 1am. I spent the night with meditation, and the tv soft and low and ignored until Rage, whereupon I fell asleep listening to the Groove Armada picks, inclusive of Massive Attack, Portished, Tricky, Kate Bush all kinds of other classic English soft trance/dance/techno.
In short, I’m feeling rather blissed out, even though Sunday night brought a little anxiety. For some reason I don’t handle being told ‘what’ I am (I never have).. But regardless of that, I’m feeling ok. The little things are just little things, and the big stuff is in good shape. I keep thinking of one of my previous asta posts…
“Everything and nothing are just two things, two things and nothing more.”