chance the rapper-the be encouraged tour

“my mom says in arabic that when it’s raining and sunny, rats are getting married”

chance got finer.

it started innocently enough-i noticed that the show got rescheduled to the day that my season boo was coming to my home for the first time, and casually texted her about it, though she was just coming off of seeing him at the palace of auburn hills (yes, i am sad that i’ll prolly never see the pistons play there).

we had a lovely day of making soup and working on projects, separately and together, napping and watching many monsoons from my window. we made references to going to the show all day, but we both had things to do and, well.

around 5pm, we were called by carbs, and since she’s a vegan who hasn’t yet experienced doomie‘s (propagandistic comics and all), we decided to walk between showers the two now lovely-scented parkdale streets that separate me and the resto. we paid our respects to the lovely guard dog with a fierce underbite in the bougie flower shop, and settled into one of the window booths. i did a double-take in time and space when a pianist that i knew almost a decade ago in montreal walked past and we caught up for a minute before i just accepted that my hair would be smelling like fried.

but delicious mac and cheese (with mushrooms) and deep fried oreos later, we were full and happy and ready to make our way towards a very ominous cloud to see this guy. considering that it was a reschedule, it was pretty breezy to get a ticket.

the bag check should’ve been foreshadowing, but we were high and happy and made it through lightning and humidity and the dj’s name was oreo and there numbers and signs everywhere.

and the rapper was perfect-he was sounding right and looking right and his energy is amazing, if a bit too religious in that way that american artists get that make it a bit uncomfortable to sing along to sometimes. the special effects blended right in with mother nature’s downpour, and even though we were standing in sponges (i have yet to check on the canvas shoes that i left outside, but if someone took them-good riddance), it was beauty-full to be dancing in the rain.

the subsequent push to get to bags that was longer than the concert by a duration of 1.5 x? not so fun. but i suppose this is what happens when you throw 3000+ bags onto the floor and expect people to wait in line and retrieve them when it’s been pouring rain all night.

but it was hilarious to be amongst the high school kids budging the line and that one dood who “had to tutor french at 9am” and was feeling all the feelings over it. it was extra hilarious because he butt into the line, and then was lamenting this, and figured out 25 minutes later that it was the bag line and not the line to leave.

and canadians are hella polite, yo. i’m surprised that there was no riots, especially with all those bored white people excited about a “hype” rap show ready to fight garbage cans and shit.

based on the “blessings” that came down, i’m not sure what “praises” went up, but congrats to all the rats that celebrated their nuptials yesterday-it was an honour to be in your presence.

“who sends two fake dick pics?”

i’ll admit it-i’m not having the greatest time adjusting to the new moon in sagittarius-shit’s been bananas. but this was a welcome distraction and a question that i never thought i would ask, and i always love those.

shoutout to my sistar and bonus fam, it was a lovely weekend and nice to be with folks who look like me and think like me and just fucking get me and love me in general. to pax and harbourfront walks, 90s dance parties on fake beaches, wings and coke in the lobby and giggling until we fall asleep-i truly love y’all.

and to my homegirl for sharing her true life that i’m committed to writing into fiction one day.

i’m still thinking about this game plan-i mean, how do you expect to get out of this one, bro? two fake dick pics? one is just the profile, but it’s clearly a circumcised dick, everything shaved, and it appears to be of a person with a different skin colour than the ones of your face. the next one matches your complexion, but is no way a believable representation of your body, and the dick is uncut and springing out from a full pubic bush that looks like a throwback to the ’70s.

the whole thing puzzles me-first of all, are you browsing and saving stock dick pics? how much research is involved here? and are you this delusional, or targeting people who you believe are so delusional that they won’t ask a question or just let this slide? or are you just that person who wants to just keep up an imaginary thing over the internet?

well, in this case-it’s not the latter. because he did show up in person, in an obnoxious car with an even more obnoxious spoiler, and because i wanted to make sure that my girl didn’t get took, or at least be able to id this fool, i sat in the back seat, silently laughing about two fake dick picks.

“i do bouncer” is the next revealing fact about this man who only works part-time at sugar daddy’s so that he can become a cop because he “likes to arrest people”. his true desire is to be in the army because he “likes action-in the field and in the bed”.

yiiiiiikes.

well, at least this dood showed me that not only white women can act crazy and get away with it.
but don’t worry-they’re still the best at it.

bad new moon in sag, very very bad.

“signature analysis” by ellie george-december 19, 2009

– you’ve got a sharp & quick mind, just like a computer, “perceptive”
– you’re “idealistic” with many goals & plans & dreams (ambitious)
– you’re always on-the-go
– you’re self-reliant & independent (you like to do it your way)
– you need your space-to “think”
– sometimes you prefer to be on your own for self-discovery
– you possess a creative flair for designing/art/music
– you’re a bit complex & private
– you’re curious & want to know “why”?
– you’re “optimistic”

i found this and got a kick out of it, so i transcribed it with the original &s and incorrect rabbit ears.

i do believe in these things-i had just met this woman at the craft fair (the santa claus one) and this is all pretty true.

we were there for mariah, not fiyah(works)

“who’s got a brick?”

obviously she was going to sing the christmas song that we couldn’t help but sing for days in anticipation-and i just know that pre-chorus, so it was a loop, but it’s mariah-MARIAH.

patrick tagged me on facebook earlier in the week, and obviously, we were going. i mean-who better to complete our diva trifecta (beyonce, janet…) than mimi?

on the streetcar down, we played all the possible scenarios in our heads-that she would do a medley (his), that she would do “someday” with those curls (mine) and let our minds wander to all the ways that she could make our fantasies come true.

as we neared the department store, there wasn’t much of a crowd, but then again, the sun hadn’t gone down yet. there was no info or visible stage set up, because when you set up a stage at eye level, it only takes one layer of people for that setup to become invisible. we were by the hotdog stand where i was sassed by a bossy little girl, and a meaningless sign that read “media blah blah blah” which i suppose was aspirational, because no media seemed to be present. there were a few security guards who shouted the non-helpful direction of “move back” and striped human chains of people in the bay jackets that can’t help but remind me of syphilis and fire water every time that i see them-oh, canada-our truth north roots of genocide strong and cede (all of your land because you can’t read).

as the crowd got more confused, cold and hangry, unsure of whether they were pushing to get closer to nothing or pushing to stay warm, a periodic yell would erupt into a momentary oasis fueled by delirium and the diva spirit. people were pushing and charging other people with being rude (why is this always the case?) and overall, sucks fifth avenue did a poor job of managing this “epic launch”.

for example, having some kind of ongoing show on the projection would’ve accomplished the following: a) kept the attention of the confused public b) allowed them to test the audio/visual/everything technical about their setup, which unfortunately didn’t seem to be on anyone’s radar.

also, updating/answering the social media page would’ve been helpful.

but love, indeed, takes time.

when mariah finally surfaced, she was radiant (as expected) and had a mediocre performance (also as expected). though we couldn’t hear her at all, and at one point, it seemed like the lights went completely down on her (i suppose the sun does set on her as well) and at many points, the cameral didn’t seem to be on her at all, so we were just getting a projection of nothing, and we couldn’t see or hear her at all on the stage set on the sidewalk. the kicker was that the budget for the fireworks seemed to be the same as her fee (imagine wrangling a million dollars for a song and a half that you couldn’t see or hear? hashtag, squad goals)-which seemed a bit superfluous, because if an investment was made into the sound quality, it could’ve been a really nice moment.

a million dollar moment? maybe not.

but as it stands, it was a $25 free gift card to the keg moment when you factor in all the standing outside in the cold with no information-take that “free publicity and goodwill” to the bank, sucks fifth avenue. there’s a reason no one really gave a shit about your window unveil and was just scrambling to get home.

shoutout to those people who stood out there for an hour and a half, just to leave when the first song started. y’all must be the same folks i see getting in and out of your seat for the whole basketball game (inconveniencing everyone in the whole row, btw, in case you somehow don’t know) buying, drinking, and pissing out your $17 coors light in a sippy cup.

but we saw aesthetically perfect mariah and the mayor didn’t bring his boyfriend, drake. but at least he didn’t smoke crack or grab anybody’s pussy either (despite how much he has to eat at home).

i guess that light bill had to be paid

“are police supposed to do this?”

after a discussion with someone last week about what we like in porn (and his answer being “amateur” because it was “something real”), i realized that what i like is something with a story-and the more outlandish, the better.

and by that i mean different from the dominant porn narrative, which already exists in a vacuum and is ridiculous. you couldn’t find anyone further away from being turned on by the ol’ no pleasure for women with unrealistic nails who are just passive receptacles until you jizz on their faces-and they love it.

once someone showed me something “with a twist”-for the money shot, all of a sudden, a nectarine was produced to hold the jizz, and then she ate it.

men are so basic.

no, what i’m talking about is a ridiculous scenario that people can still act through, keep the facade alive-i’ll never forget the one i saw about a nude intruder on the premises who was stealing the garbage, so of course, buddy had to go out there, wrestle her out of his recycling bin, and fuck her. yup-it was a human enactment of woman as raccoon.

or the one where three doods were just hanging out on a rooftop with their dicks out as bats, playing baseball-hitting actual baseballs with their fucking dicks. now, correct me if i’m wrong, but them shits is hard. (in this case, the balls and the bats were hard). they did this for a little while, until a woman magically appeared when they needed to sharpen their bats and then they went to town on her on a workout bench. and she was dressed like the mary j. blige what’s the 411 video-with her tits out.

so, for the sake of a story, and an annual check-in with porn, i decided to go looking. what i found was a video called “police brutality” that involved two buxom white female officers busting a scrawny black “perp” for home invasion, and then making him fuck his way to freedom.

now, despite how many problems there are with this premise, and it’s no coincidence that it appears in our current political climate, it’s just pitiful to watch because the poor man looks so forlorn and makes the most furtive eye contact with the camera-knowing that his mama and aunties and younger female cousins will make so much fun of him if ever they saw this, not to mention his boys. it’s really in your face, actors-you give it all away.

but not only is he full out embarrassed, he cannot maintain an erection-i have no idea why, as the more dominant woman is barking at him to be grateful that “this female officer is sucking your big cock” instead of taking him to jail. the poor thing is seated on the floor, sandwiched between the women in very convincing cop uniforms (complete with shoes and holsters) and while the one is kneeling awkwardly to work his flaccid member in her mouth, the other one is straddling his face, first backwards (so she can supervise and yell) and then forward, and while she’s barking the order to “eat my fucking pussy”, i’m worried that his poor little neck will snap.

overall, it’s not sexy, but i’m mesmerized. this is what porn has always been for me-a revealing sociological study. and humans are so fascinating and ridiculous.

i hope at least that this poor man got his light bill paid, because short of losing a bet, i don’t know why he was there, and it didn’t seem like he did either.

the corner (formerly known as speaker’s)

“we’re the highest rated comedy club on yelp”

i got free passes to this place outside of the sony centre during jfl 42. i suggested going last weekend to a coworker, and i was glad that she decided to postpone so i could go home and spend thanksgiving eating beef stew out of my slow cooker and napping hard. out of the blue, she asked if wanted to go tonight, and i decided to take her up on it, even though we had to pay because it’s the weekend, and the passes aren’t valid.

i got excited for a moment because the comics were hustling on the corner and i thought we were in, but avril lavigne sold us short, as he didn’t tell us that there was cover, and it was a bit surprising to be in a spot that is smaller than my apartment. but it’s the former speaker’s corner.

the real comedy was seeing a dood that i’ve been ducking since that uncomfortable dinner/punishment, on a date. i thought i was safe because there was a large gentleman who seemed to have walked in from the war, just mumbling and talking about opium and sparked his lighter. it was great because he was built like a refrigerator and was actually funnier than some of the comics, but he disappeared midway through and buddy made me.

it was super awkward, as he said “here here” very loudly to the comic who claimed that living in toronto was all about drinking craft beer and questioning his sexuality. and when that same comic asked him and his date if they were dating or fucking and he said loudly, “we don’t know!” though his eyebrows raised when she raised her hand when another comic asked if anyone had had a brazilian-i bet that’s going to be a fun night.

especially when i tried to duck away (bigups to my boy brian for hooking up the oversized deadstock australian vintage camo parka) though he grabbed me, and when he actually ran after me yelling my government name after that only to make weird small talk and threatening promises to call me-i’m really starting to think that he’s autistic or super clueless to how that looks to the poor young lady you’re on a date with.

most of the comics were ok, except the one who clearly didn’t write any jokes so he decided to punch down and repeat 900,000 times that he wished he could grab women by the pussy. shoutout to the one guy in the audience who decided to tell him he was wrong, and to me for getting more laughs than him by saying, “this is really funny and totally landing. i think you should fucking say it again”.

all in all-i don’t think i will ever go there again. or at least i won’t be in a rush.

but it was a crucial part of my day of odd coincidences, a lapis lazuli, indigo, pears, and aligning flows.

dig if you will a picture…

of a 29 bus route running effectively.

BAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAH…BAAAAAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA.

ha.

maybe one day.

but today was not that day. i had an appointment at bloor and spadina at 11:30. i foolishly figured that leaving my house at 10:45 would be plenty of time. instead, the dufferin loop was full of buses and drivers casually smoking and hanging out and just sitting while the buses and streetcars piled up. FS is listed on the schedule and it’s supposed to mean “frequent service, within 10 minutes”. experience shows that this is more like BS. after 20 minutes of this standoff, a bus finally leaves, but alas and alack, it’s not in service.

more waiting.

more vehicle pileups.

finally, one gets going, well-they all go at the same time (of course), and we go two stops when the driver announces that dufferin is closed between queen and dundas so we’re going on a detour. it makes one unscheduled stop, so i’m optimistic, as perhaps i can still make it on time from dundas and ossington. silly of me once again, as no stop was made until dundas and dufferin (big fucking detour, guys). i had to call and postpone my appointment, which was nonsense, but it was a beauty-full day, and i would get off at the now back to regular stop of dufferin and college and take the streetcar. as the daylight of the year wanes, i’m aiming to stay above ground as much as possible.

but, no. the doors do not open at college for some reason, despite many people asking and pushing-really those back doors are like nail polish-the jerk cosmetic that chips immediately upon application, but refuses to come off when you want it to-the back doors will be quick to snap you up in its jaws, but are immovable when you want to get out-venus flytrap-like fuckers.

magically, the “malfunctioning” doors open at the next stop, and i have to get into it with an unemployed (i’m projecting) masturbator about why it’s not the bus driver’s fault and grumble back to college just to see that streetcar zoom past because the stop is on the wrong dang side of the street.

right salty, i decided to turn the day around by giving up on the ttc altogether and walking my ass to bloor and spadina because that way, i KNOW i will get there, and i had two more hours anyway because i had to reschedule the appointment.

my first item of gratitude was the seeming resolution of the road construction along college. my second item was the lightening of my load when i dropped off my library book at college/shaw. third was my iced mate at empire espresso, a coffee shop that i first encountered the day after mimi died and i got a honey lavendar latte at the location outside kensington market thanks to my indie coffee passport. the energy, crystals, and aromas in there were lovely, and there was a nice plaque on the wall that read something along the lines of “be kind-everyone you encounter is having a rough go at life”.

next up, i decided to meander into red pegasus and support some of our regular customers. i found a lovely book of future letters and plan to teef that idea for many more people than the intended.

further along, i ran into my favourite rapper and added to my legacy of accidentally staining rappers’ shoulders with my lipstick. we traded stories of bureaucracy and hugs and continued along our ways.

i dipped into jelly and got myself a pumpkin tiramisu donut because i am now spending money like water. also-pumpkin tiramisu donut.

i make it to spadina and take the streetcar to bloor. i was still early, so i quickly perused the cd offerings at the spadina road branch of the library and bought some crystals (pyrite and amethyst) at the cedar basket gift shop at the native canadian centre of toronto.

afterwards, i continued my walk because by then i had missed my movie. i went through the village because it’s been awhile, and found out that the crosswalks are rainbow, just like they were in philly last summer.

12 for $12 truffles from purdy‘s and a long overdue reunion with young niko where we put my crystals on the table and wrote and shared our lists of characteristics of our ideal partners (sometimes, it’s good to have a witness) and i browsed through too many boring conversations about thanksgiving on his jack’d account.

we headed to the reference library for the 2016 toronto book awards even though i admit this year, i was totally slipping. i did not read any of them before the ceremony (i kind of fell off with the evergreen books as well-but i’ve been reading down my holds’ list!). the only one i’m really excited about is ann y.k. choi‘s book, along with which she plugged the debut of kim’s convenience tonight.

but of course, a white legacy writer won.

i cut the sleeves off my trusty airplane plaid shirt (because of the mysteriously symmetrical rips that appeared a few weeks ago) and burned a mix of desenvoutement/gratitude/storax to purify the new crystals and bring an end to my weekend.

ever great-full,
xoxo.