Day: April 17, 2005

Ethan brought me to a party last night. We walked from my house east toward Burnaby until we came upon a house full of girls with plastic earrings and boys with indie band t-shirts. Walking into the kitchen, a man stopped me, “I know you from somewhere. You’re the purple girl! You’re Jhayne!” I said, yes and he replied, “I don’t know where I know you from.” It was a good introduction to the night. I felt transplanted without any roots until I found that there was talk of making a fire in the backyard. There was a brick hut for it and people who didn’t know what they were doing. Half an hour later, I had flames as a visible low red above the chimney by almost four feet.

Bloody Squamish Days.

I close the door quickly when I’m like this, and I can’t bear to look at you in the thinning sliver, because then I’ll lose it. I won’t be able to wait for you to get far enough away. I couldn’t bear it if you heard me, this is too shameful, too full of everything you shouldn’t see. I let you taste the humour in my blood, the scarlet flow that grins and flashes teeth, but this I keep away from you. You’re too nice to me. You don’t need to die a little everytime the moon is full. It’s a neglect leftover maybe, it’s the intensity that tides bring when they wear away the shore. All of it tastes like iron and salt. All of it drips down my wrists to taint my world with too much need.

Modified Fusion Fashion Show II.
April 19. $6.
A Burlesque, Comedy, Dread Extensions, Visuals, Art & Fashion Show.
Shift at the Lick (to the right of the Lotus).

You don’t understand what you do to me. You take my skin and wear it like a tongued kiss to steal. I don’t know what you need from me, I don’t know what I can give to you. I want to spread my legs for you and like it. You’re red upholstery to stick to on a sunny day when there’s nothing ahead but miles waiting, horizons waiting to be superseded with the logic of an oncoming train. You’re the crunch of gravel under bare feet in winter, icy shocks I stand up straight to harden my souls for. If I could have another you, I would do it. Splice your genes dripping from my lips as clear sticky syrup so I might look you in the eyes, destruction in my wake, knowing I could keep you. It seems hard, but maybe it’s time for you to spend a lonely night alone and awake. You were kind enough to comfort me, you were sweet enough to desire me. It might be time to set yourself in my position. Staring at the ceiling, trying to imagine where your dreams are going. I know your hair is mingling on hard pillows, a colour match scented with perfume. Maybe you’ll curl like I do, trying to bury yourself in your own flesh to take your mind away from an impending end half a city away. Instead of feeling alone over washed cotton sheets, sometimes I want to walk naked outside in the rain, walk parting the waters like a biblical saint. I want to kiss you to sleep. Instead of this, I want to hold your body close to mine and sink my teeth into your breath. You are remarkable, you are holy to me. I don’t know how to remember.