riding through the streets of montreal, on a borrowed bicycle with scary drop handlebars, i asked amber if i’d have to pay for the hospital if i got hit here. she said no. i followed her hot pink head through the city, thinking about how every time i ride my bike, in the back of my head there’s a little voice saying, “if you get hit it’s gonna cost you!” and it’s true. $15,000 to $100,000 or maybe more. for a moment of carelessness. oh, these burdens we carry. sometimes you don’t even notice them, until they’re gone.

montreal was lots of fun! lots of hanging out by the river, riding bikes, and eating free food with nice people. lots of talks with a certain canadian-telemarketer-turned-research-subject-turned-popular-tumblr-er about writing and heartbreak, about publishing and living. it’s always nice getting away, always a ton of realizations.

i finally thought of a title for my genderqueer-love-memoir! on the bus to montreal. it’s gonna be called The Wrong Universe (to be explained in the book, duh, but the short version is: i could conceivably be called transgendered, but i don’t want to modify my body at all, because i firmly believe that i’m not in the wrong body but the wrong universe). so, yay! that’s one thing out of the way.

i have more to say but no time to say it. short version: super sad and stressed about leaving everyone i love who is east of the mississippi. super sad about leaving my whole life. even though i know i gotta. it’s still hard.

oh thank you.

what have i been doing?

*staying up until 5am almost every day

*thinking about creating visual art (something i don’t consider myself to be “good” at but sometimes do for fun) but not doing it. the only thing i ever feel like sharing is mail art, which is still pretty fun:

*trying to read “how to write a book proposal” in the stifling heat of my apartment (because a certain author i love told me i should!!!)

* reading this like, every day. it has healed me so much and i only wish that i had read it a year or two ago so i wouldn’t have wasted so much time being emotionally abused (i say this of course like it’s my fault for being there and not my expartner’s fault for abusing me). reading that article helped me to realize that his shitty unethical behavior actually WAS abuse, which i did not call it before even though it took the same emotional toll on me as abusive behavior from other people has. duh. duh!

*last night my girlfriend & i were hungry around 2am, so she made us some sushi, which was delicious. then, we got into a talk about “teenage mutant ninja turtles” and decided to watch an episode on the internet. at one point, apropos of NOTHING, master splinter (the rat who gives spiritual guidance, if you’ve forgotten) looked directly at the camera and said, “i really need to stop with these late night sushi snacks!” we FRUCK OUT. there was also another moment of synchronicity with that episode (!) but it’s too cute/romantic to share here, plus it’s not as funny.

*i need help titling my memoir and also making sure the tenses are all correct (which is tricky because it needs to be in two tenses, the current narrative & the flashbacks). also, i am watching that horrible movie “becoming chaz” about everyone’s fave celeb transdude chaz bono, as “research”. ha!

and the fists are raised

been dividing my days into silence and chatter. both are nourishing & exhausting. my sweat smells a little bit like the dirty sea i named myself after. low tide, it smells like home.

i’m usually not out at 4am, but last night i was, at eat’n'park with steph, shea & claire. after a really cheesy lesbian dance party, which steph & i enjoy going to because we can be as ridiculous as we want without being embarrassed. steph & i were whirling our shirts over our heads on the dance floor, and she kept yelling, “no shame! no shame!” which was great.

anyhoo, june turned to july while we were out, and i was all, “holy shit, in exactly a month i’m leaving.” i’m taking the 3:50am bus on august first. but sitting there in the diner, sad waitresses rushing pancakes, the world dark, looking forward to nothing besides taking out my contacts and going home to my bed–

i thought, oh no. in a month, at this time, i will be getting on a bus and not getting off for over two days. in a month, there will be no bed. in a month, i will hug everyone i love the most goodbye, and they’ll get in their cars and on their bikes and drive away, and just as we’re hitting the highway in ohio and my ass is really starting to hurt, the very last one of them will be asleep, and i’ll be just getting further and further away….

and this marks the first moment i’ve had any real sadness about leaving. not having good times, not falling in love, not any of those things. & don’t worry, i’m still GOING of course. just a little more heavy-hearted. and my plan of hanging out with my besties until the bar closes and then moving the hang to the greyhound station doesn’t sound like fun anymore. maybe i should just go by myself, sit on my suitcase impatiently until i’m glad to get going again.