The Jake: Part 1

"And then" he says, his blue eyes flashing, his hands animated, "...all my mother can see is these 2 felt legs sticking up in the ditch."

I cannot help it, I am enchanted.

Later when we make our way through the throngs of leather clad men and beautiful boys with their exqusiite cheekbones the conversation never lulls. Continues, with nods and smiles, shyly sneaking glances at one another. When I talk, he leans in, his long legs slowing to match my pace, his gait in rythym with my own.

He stands, at the jukebox, looking at me. The tired waiter, immaculate and beautiful touches my hair. Brings us kitsch cocktails and battered menus.

I cannot stop looking up at the man smiling at me from across the room, my chin resting in the palm of my hand. He smiles back, shakes his head, makes his selection. Crosses the restuarant to our table, boyish grin brighter.

Sits opposite me and tilts his head.

Frank croons in the background, and he sings along softly off key.

I watch his lips move as he speaks, his leg brushes up against mine and stays there. It is too natural and fluid, spontaneous and reassuring, I feel dizzy, disorientated.
I have forgotten what this feels like, have spent too much time rushing in blindly with lust and unforseen consequences that somehow, I have forgotten that the beginning is supposed to be just like this. Have forgotten what it feels like to be left with a lingering kiss that reduces my worldy knees to liquid, lips burning and the feel of his hand against my cheek as he waves me goodbye and sees me off; my cab winding through Friday night revellers to take me home.

Naked men on my BLOG!

In no way is this intended as a gratuitous exploitation of the Vancouver Nudist Organisation, nor a blatant attempt to increase my traffic.

But yes, indeed. They are nude.

*willy*

snicker

*balls*

giggle

*penis*

collapses in heap of own immaturity...

Oh alright then, if you're easily offended I apologise.
Now here are some men in little hotpants...

Random outpourings

Because I am far too busy at work and would rather be blogging... but instead some random outpourings.

Bobbie on Girl With a One Track Mind getting outed.
After Esoteric's revelation he read my blog, I am going to be ever more careful in future.

Trying to decide how I feel about "World Trade Centre" and whether I want to see it or not.

Falling in love with A Beautiful Revolution.

Finally a sense of closure for Damiola's family.

And in closing, a determination to start researching and writing that book proposal after a sound talking to by the divinely beautiful and talented Amelia over ahi tuna and far too many bottles of overpriced Viognier.
As well as the phone call yesterday to let me know my application for a lovely little bright and sunny studio in the West End had been approved.

I'll be moving in September off the sofa and into a place of my own. Bliss.

Seattle or Bust

I am a bit rubbish. My post about Seattle still remains unwritten. I have several excuses. Really.

So I am going to point you in the direction of the divine Miss D, the story is here.

And because this weekend was full of Pride parad'ing, dancing until the wee hours, bumping into an old friend (whom I've dearly missed) and who decided my date was good enough for me after all, eating at some fabulous new restaurants and wine bars (where there were sabered bottles of Laurent Perrier Rose), a lingering kiss at the end of the date Friday night which left my knees weak, rushing across town to put an application in for a lovely little studio in the West End, a wedding (not mine), losing my bankcard and far too many hangovers for one Lady in a weekend the post has remained unwritten and the photos languish pre - photoshop.


However, all is not lost. More pictures will be uploaded soonish.

I kiss you.

LMM
x

These Crazy Blues ain't no musical

I have been blind sided, did not see it coming. Counting back days to know that this is not just hormonal. That despite my best intentions, my fighting, there are some things I can't control.

I knew it yesterday, felt that sour bitterness, metal in the back of my throat, my stomach bunched in knots so fierce it took me a moment to get up from my desk and try to walk it off. My heart beating against my chest so fast I was dizzy, my hands shaking, struggling to take a breath.

When all I wanted was to rush home and throw the covers over my head and not have to be anyone or anything, if only for a few hours or a few days. That all my careful planning, ignoring every little symptom countless times and carrying on, just to hold it at arms' length for another week, another day so successfuly that I'd convinced myself of its absence from my life.

That when it hits, I am winded by its ferocity, its violent grip on me.

I know that this is only temporary, I am better at reacting. Know the right steps to take, acknowledge and respect these challenges. I am better at talking through them but in the meantime I have lost my words, am left feeling uninspired and overwhelmed. The last few months have taken their toll, have left me with little to draw on.

And so I carry on, try to refocus my energy, continue to look for a challenging new job, traipse through West End flats trying to find my safe space, take each new day individually. Take long walks and deep breaths. Find my place in this city, put down something tangible and real...

An email from Tony

"Not quite in keeping with my blog but perfect for yours I thought. You may
be dating midgets and body odour afficionados but you at least haven't dated this guy..."

No, indeed.

(And this post is no way intended as a filler for the uber fab Seattle post still coming... Really.)

I wish it was a 9-5...

Seattle post coming. Really.

But in the meantime, although work does not permit me alot of blogging time, it does permit me the odd scan of t'internet.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
This has made me so angry I am beyond words.

At what point do we think enough is enough and start safe guarding the rights and safety of our children? How many warning signs must there be, a first? A second offence? A cry for help?

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

Ben Hammersley in Afghanistan, blogging here and posting pictures here.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

Teasing you...

Coming Soon!

Sadly I missed reading this post before I boarded what was supposed to be a train but wasn't and headed off to meet the divinely divine Miss Devylish on Friday because work has been beyond busy.

But as a taster, did we have fun? Oh indeed. Indeed we did.

But you'll all have to wait as work is not playing fair and I have little time to scribe today, so sit tight. There are adventures galore!

All I ever needed to know before I started to date...

A Devyl to set the record straight.

A man to explain why men need to have a little mongrel.

And dating etiquette so I can see where I'm going wrong...

...I especially like the rule about not drinking on a date, I should note that down somewhere.

Wednesday

4 months of sofa living have taken their toll.

I am exhausted.

Add to that the rollercoaster of adapting to a new lifestyle, understanding Canadian dating mores, trying to find a new job and ending up over my head in an office of bankers. Splash in some long hours, the confusion surrounding my still missing furniture, missing London like a lover, finally finding myself on the winning side of a long battle with a niggling health concern and learning how to find my niche within a city that has moved on. Top it off with the odd identity crisis, one or two bad dates, a few shaky moments of ohdeargodwhathaveidone and you've got it all in a fantastically mixed cocktail.

So I'm packing my bags and escaping to another beautiful city on the weekend to cause as much havoc as two little misses can do.

And which I hope will suitably make up for the dreadful writer's block beseiging me at present.

And so my gifts are as below, a piece that inspired a well thought out and sensitively debated conversation. Following on a carefully philosophised point, I did actually utter *It makes me so grateful that I never, ever have to be... a mail order bride...* (via)

I think the Nurse knew what I meant. But it didn't stop her from laughing her head off at me.

Am I sad...

...in thinking this is sexy?

Because I do. I really, really do.

*gazes in awe and wonderment...*

Life Lessons

There comes a time when you look across and see a friend, who has seen you through the worst, who has held your hand, helped you to your feet and kept you there, has pulled you out of scrapes, stood beside you when you fought your demons, whose laughter made you smile and safe, who's turned to you at breaking point, held onto you, and held you back. Who has turned and pushed and pulled at you with words and wine fuelled rants, red with jealousy, bitterness and unhappiness lashed out with criticism and wry remarks, hit you so hard and so often the words fly off you; that you need to remind yourself that it never was you.

That all this hate and all this anger was always there, a virus riding bareback.

Once, sitting beside a friend, felt that rage barely in check, and knew it wasn't mine, wasn't for me.

And so I drew back, slipped away little by little and distanced myself. Gradually cut ties and in doing so, turned encouragement to anger and disdain, became accountable for all that she held dear but could no longer hold.

Maybe I should have been more cautious, more truthful. Maybe I was intimidated by her lashing tongue, cruelty on the back of venomous words. I thought it may be better to walk away, little by little, instead of letting go in a big finale.

I think the greatest lesson I ever learned was to never take it personally, we are drawn to those we need to benefit from and in these friends throughout the years, I learned more than how to pick myself up again but also to know when to say goodbye, when to know it wasn't me and when to stop taking responsibility for anyone's actions but my own.

Do I have to put the hat on too...?

"...Three things..." I start, cradling the phone; my voice husky from far too little sleep and far too much alcohol. The Nurse, reticent on the other end.

"One. You tried to snog me on the dancefloor..."

I am scared the Nurse has stopped breathing.

"Two. I have photographic evidence of you dressed in a PVC policewoman's outfit..."

I know she's alive as she has issued a little whimper.

"Three. I have lost Scott..."

I hang up. The bed is spinning in the room, and despite me holding on for dear life, I cannot stop it.

It had started innocently enough. A few drinks with the Nurse, and then a text from Scott saying he would be in town. A brand new credit card and the company of 2 of my dearest friends later, things, as they do... well, all went a little downhill.

It started at Bimini's, followed us through to champagne cocktails at Lucy Mae Brown, a few cheeky drinks at Morrisey, and then... sadly, all fell apart at Doolin's.

"Whatever you do," the Nurse says, "no shots..."

Oops.

A nod to the waitress and the table of young men beside us later, and the Nurse had forgiven me. Wrapped as she was around a delightful young man whose name, I believe, escapes us all.

A dare later, we were stood in Granville Street's finest. I said..." just pick it up, hold it against you and ask the complete stranger what he thinks...".

When I turned around, The Nurse was gone. A bump, a mutter and a crowd of young men pointing me in the right direction.

"Do I have to put the hat on, too...?"

Stepping out of the dressing room, resplendent in PVC.

"...or are the glasses enough?"

I am speechless. And so I do what only a best friend would do.

I commit that memory to technology. Drag her by the hand and take her back to the bar.

Links? Help!

So, okay.

Although I am going away this weekend, to a lovely wedding in Victoria where there is a high likelihood that I will get quite tipsy and gay and perhaps snog someone inappropriate and fall off the ferry due to a champagne induced hangover Sunday afternoon as the wedding is 2 days long, I need to update my links which I lost last week in a bizarre saving without looking accident.

What I'd like to do is add some new and lovely blogs to my already fabulous blogroll, which is where you come in.

So go on, drop a comment and make me a recommendation... what's the best blog you've been reading lately? Old or new favourites? Unsung heroes? Or just complete nutters?

In the meantime, the producers are still trying to make up their mind about whether to let me have this job or not and in the meantime, I am turning manic.

Also, this is very very cool (especially if you're a Star Wars geek like me!)

This is the most disturbing scene I have ever lain eyes on. And I have seen some not very nice things, I used to live with 3 boys (and briefly, with a dead guy)

And the Hoff. Nothing quite like a little Hoff. Seems as if he's getting into some trouble. I mean, how do you cut yourself, in the men's room, on a chandelier?!

Bridges

When I first moved back, and was looking for a job and needed to clear my head, I'd walk down to Granville Island , sit on a bench looking over at English Bay, the marina and Burrard Street Bridge.

I have almost always lived a bridge away from the City, in London I had my favourite bridges as I also did in Paris. There was always something, as you crossed; as if you were off on a new adventure into the city, or going home at the end of one.

I have always loved this particular bridge, when I was looking to move out 10 years ago the apartment I wanted is in the building in the very right hand corner on Beach Avenue.



I ended up in Glasgow, and the rest as we say is a drunken old mess.

Also another of my favourite spots has become Jericho Beach, the Galley has one of the best patios in Vancouver (and actually serve some of the best burgers as well...)