Headscratcher

NIGHT-Int.

YOU

(sighs)

ME

(strokes YOU's hair)

YOU

Use your nails!

ME

(scratches YOU's head)

Gross.

YOU

Mmmmmmm

ME

(smiling)

I am so grossed out right now.

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

Had a nice dinner in St-Martine with Tini and the Farmer, Murray and Sabina. Tini made pierogies, from scratch! and we drank wine and ate apples and cheese. I made brownies with cream cheese icing that Babay said were too greasy, but everyone else liked. The Russian ate two this morning for breakfast, which, considering they haven't been refrigerated in since Thursday night, was probably potentially dangerous. In any case, we laughed a lot, and I collected the poop for the Russian, in a Coaticook container in several plastic bags.

It was a bit disturbing to be lectured to the extent to which I was, concerning the Russian, by all the people that I trust most. I did present the Russian in a fairly unflattering light, but he does a lot of gross stuff. Still, I was/am disturbed by how scared they are for me. If I felt badly about us, the Russian and I, I mean, I suppose I would not be as bewildered by their responses. I have been hurt a lot before, by him, and Bear, and others. And if I have learned anything from my experience, it is that I am more fragile than I once was. But I will make him damn lunch if I damn well please! And I don't need anyone reading anything into it.

After dinner, Sabina drove Murray and I back downtown and we went to a bar in St-Henri, with waitresses in suspenders and lots of wood and white paint. Very lovely. It was for a guy's birthday who I don't really know that well, but I ran into some other people I knew from high school, and drank some. It was a surprise when the lights came on and I realised it was 3am. I left, chipper and tipsy, and thinking "I could totally have winded up having icky sex back there," and was 99% glad that I hadn't.

I slept in and went to the Quebecois breakfast place with Babay. The food was delicious, Babay was sad, but we ended up in a consignment shop next door to the breakfast place, and our spirits rose with each old lady smelling piece of clothing we tried on, culminating in this:

Babay got some cute sunglasses and Dior tights, and I got this funny wool skirt and some boots which the Russian said were "pretty Russian."

Last night, the Russian came over and we watched a movie. I know that I am not always entirely relaxed, that I sometimes feel like I have said something unfunny or stupid. But if someone gives you the time to let you look at them, and gives you the time to let you show yourself to them, that feels valuable to me. And we have a lot of fun together.

I think that about brings me up to date. I am hoping my future posts will be more preoccupied with the awesome homework I am getting done. I'll be able to say, "Fuck yeah, I finished that website. Bitch."