Wednesday, November 9, 2011


I love The Hurting by Tears for Fears. I have it on tape. I was really broke during my first year in Toronto and I got it along with many other tapes from Buy the Pound on Jarvis and Adelaide. I had a shitty hand-me-down tape deck, no bank account, and I really wanted to listen to music. One evening Xenia and I walked into Buy the Pound where I grabbed a briefcase and filled it up with tapes. Then we walked out - just like that. I didn't feel guilty about stealing because I had nothing. It was two thousand and two. I was twenty one and had just finished dating my first Canadian boyfriend. His name was Noel. We bonded over talking about our dreams (we both kept dream diaries and fantasized about the memory recording machine in that movie Strange Days with Juliette Lewis) and Wild Turkey. He lived in Parkdale and had a neurotic little cat named Nico. One morning before leaving for work Noel brought a kitten into bed (I knew how to sleep in then). The kitten was still really tiny and made squeaky little meow sounds and Noel and his roommate named it Lucy. Three months later, at the vet's office, Noel found out that Lucy was a boy.

Noel videotaped me smoking cigarettes and laughing and walking along Roncesvalles and making observations with my (then very thick) accent and laughing again. I laughed at everything. Most days we just laid on his couch watching Klaus Kinski films and eating ice cream, but we also went on the wildest and weirdest adventures together. Our parting of ways wasn't pleasant. He thought I was too young to understand his complex (immature) character and I was too proud to tell him how much I liked him (also immature). Instead of telling him how I felt I updated my blog with sad song lyrics (this is pre-youtube) and listened to The Hurting because it was sort of cheesy and appropriate and most importantly, it was one of the only four tapes I owned at the time. So in a way that tape became my break up record. I still love it.

That time with Noel ten years ago marked the beginning of my learning how to navigate "adult" relationships. Whereas before I was always quick to let my temper fly, in his case I pulled back, internalized, and, once the feelings subsided came to my own conclusions about our affair. The conclusion: leave it behind. Strategic anger VS emotional anger. Zeesy and I argued about this subject two weeks ago when I was PMSing and felt patronized and pissed off because she told me to channel my feelings toward some sort of a goal and I just felt like punching someone in the face or burning down a building. I got over it pretty quickly (hi Zeesy!). Here are some examples of strategic anger:

1968 summer Olympics


Voina


Coco Fusco & Guillermo Gomez-Pena

I'm not sure what examples of emotional anger I could provide you with. Battered women? Just kidding obviously there are good examples. Emotional anger is instinctual. I feel it when I sense that my life is in jeopardy. Standing up for yourself or your loved ones isn't about logic and strategy, for example. Emotional anger is important because it helps me survive.

Anyway enough nonsense.

Swintak lent me a pile of great books, one of which I've been reading all afternoon: 'Hans Ulrich Obrist Interviews Volume I' (READ). There's an interview with Maurizio Cattelan where he talks about some of his rejected and unrealized projects, one of which is a fake Nazi rally. You can read the interview HERE it's hilarious. Everything MC says is hilarious. Because he's not afraid to make fun of himself, which I think is one of the features I appreciate most in people.

Last night I drank Juniper tea and watched the rain outside my window and drew. Come draw with me. We can drink something a bit less PG. Today I'm sipping wine and drawing all day. I'm pretty much chained to my desk.

Here's what I'm listening to right now, bye pals.


2 comments:

isla.m.craig|at|gmail.com said...

you taught me to love tears for fears thru this tape. pale shelter!!!

mbh said...

I too had a male cat named Lucy. I love you Yuuli, teach me anger.
xo