happy 25th pride!

[cheer]

it's the 25th annual pride week in Toronto. I'm pretty amazed it's been 25 years and how gigantic it has become. from just a long political parade of queers, it's now grown to one of the biggest tourist events in the city. just the number of participants in the parade probably out-numbered the people who showed up to vote for our mayor. well, perhaps I'm exaggerating, but it does seem that the parade does go on and on and on.

last year, I kiddingly promised in my post to be more gay for this year's pride. so I went shopping for furniture (again). shopping counts as being gay, right? I didn't go to any gay pride parties nor did I go to the big circuit party either. instead, eL had her housewarming party on Saturday. so Y and I brought some wine and hung out with straight people. eL has a lovely apartment with a wonderful skylight letting in the brilliant sun, while I stood admiring the air conditioner. the usual suspects showed up a little later, including brucebruce, the keeper of the psycho cat, beingboring and her love interest, sugar and SuperMario. it was nice to see everyone, but it was even nicer to savour all of the good food and drinks. Y brought his friend NoH who baked a wonderful cake/bread thing.

Sunday, Y and I grabbed lunch in Chinatown and did some grocery shopping. we cooled our heels at Moonbean and had some iced lattes and talked excitedly about furniture. I found the table I want, but it was far too big to fit the dining room. by the time we got back to our place, the parade was still going strong, and so we just relaxed on the balcony listening to the roar of spectators' cheers while we had some beer. the phone rang and we found ourselves saving mark and his bf from a beer-less pride. it was hot, we had beer, I was too lazy to go out again in the heat, so we invited them over for beer. I confess, I didn't feel gay enough to want to stand in the beer garden drinking bad beer and trying not to flirt drunkenly at the cute boys. well, even if I wanted to, it wasn't likely going to happen since the gay village was already packed.

after a yummy thai dinner and a nice stroll up the street to see the gay sights, it was time to bid the boys a goodnight. the gayest thing I did the whole weekend was give mark and his bf big hugs and kisses on the street while the hunky policemen looked on. and so I didn't go dancing and get drunk at some bar. I didn't dutifully watched the parade and dodge water guns. I didn't even go to a gay brunch nor did I woke up with a hangover. I didn't pick up some hot guy for a pride fling. on Saturday night, I just thought maybe I was missing the action... but now I think so what? I spent time with some good friends and family. I'm proud that I have such open and caring friends. I don't think pride is just about being gay. it's also about being proud of the family and friends who support you. it takes courage to come out, but it also takes courage to reach out and support people you love who aren't the same as you. I celebrated pride day in my own way without big exaggerations. thanks all for making pride this year enjoyable and stress-free! next year, I promise not to be more gay. I promise to just be me.

push

[poem/draft]

towards,
where you stood,
promise
like a note from the deep sea,
whispering, my
name in a bottle flung with hopes by a friend’s hand.

into,
when you still cared
driving
to where there are no places,
turning hard, my
hands gripping in a rush to reach the end.

away,
because your words hurt
spikes
like thorns from a softly red song,
freshly pierced, my
broken skin flowers in full bloom.

ahead,
why stand still,
wilting
browned grasses waving hot in the sun,
waiting burningly, my
footsteps face backwards in the sand,

yearning for just one word.

happy blog!

[wish]

it’s been one year since I’ve started this blog. I was afraid I wouldn’t last this long nor did I think I’d write this much. so tonight I’m going to toast my blog a one year birthday wish and wish for another year of photos, stories, posts, comments and postcards. if I could, I’d wish it could write itself and entertain me. as it is, it’s a lot more work than I thought. but once I start putting words down for a post, I keep writing and I feel I could just keep on writing forever.

when I first started this blog, I meant it to be a journal of sorts, for my friends to read and to keep up with what’s going on. it was also meant to be a bit therapeutic, to help me explore a new life since breaking up with Y. mind you, not much has changed since; and whatever has changed, I find that since the blog could be read by any number of my friends and family, it is difficult to balance how much to reveal. I mean, do I mention that I hung out with a friend whom I think is very nice, but wonder if there’s anything holding me back since he’s off to Japan in a few months to teach? (yes, here’s another single guy moving off somewhere. in the words of mark, do I smell? *hey Japan teacher-dude, if you’re reading this, I’ll call you next week for a movie.*) do I confess that I can’t start a relationship with anyone because I think I’m still wounded? or is it better to just say that I think I’m actually in love with someone I can’t have? and no, it’s not Y.

the other reason why I started this blog was to get myself writing again and try to figure out a few questions about where I’m going with my fiction. I’ve been trying to restart my project of short stories, but I always face the blank screen as a huge barricaded door. the main thing that keeps me from breaking it open is my paralyzing fear that I have nothing to say. I can write fiction, I can write stories, I can write long boring business policy proposals to make my manager look good, I can write and write, but I derive no pleasure if I have nothing to say. it’s like this blog, I started it with just quick and easy posts and found that while easy to do, I didn’t feel like the short posts were getting any where. I couldn’t stop. I kept writing longer and longer posts, taking more time to plan, to think about, to come up with an argument or lead it somewhere. I know they don’t have to be this way and quite frankly, that’s why I love reading some of the blogs I linked on my blog travels. they’re quick, irreverent, funny, and full of character. but I can’t write like that without cringing, without feeling it’s not me. and so, I write these long posts and ending them with contrived conclusions. I think I’m getting better at it. but is it fun to read?

Joel wondered a few months back about his own blog and where it was going. he asked about comments or lack thereof, and I think he didn’t realize that a lot of people read his blog without leaving comments. I know I do. I’ve compiled a list of blogs that is now too long to keep up. but I do visit as much as I can and spend the time to read all the previous posts I’ve missed. so I read Joel’s blog and follow his renovating tribulations and writing trials and I feel like I’m part of his world, if only for that moment. perhaps that’s what I can hope I’ve achieved at least. if after stopping by icyblog and you felt that you were part of my world, and you didn’t run away screaming, then maybe I’ve succeeded in saying what I have to say.

my blog’s a year older, a decimal point older, and I’m a year wiser. thank you all for reading. thanks for the lovely comments. thank you for sending me postcards from around the world. come back again soon, eh?

burning summers of my discontent, winters made glorious by the sun

[postcards #3]

a few weeks ago, we planted flowers for our balcony, in anticipation of warmer weather. we got some bright orange marigolds and some flowers called tiger mix. the tiger plants were just green and leafy, but the picture on the label looked pretty. I’m pretty bad at plants and I swear my thumbs are black. I remember my first year biology lab involved sticking bee thoraxes on sticks and then pollinating geraniums with these bee parts rubbing up against the flowers in my feeble effort to demonstrate inbreeding depression. I like to think that the plants died because I wasn’t good at plant sex. this summer, I hope to be a little bit better at keeping our balcony festooned with bright colours. while getting my fingers muddy with fancy soil, I was thinking was it time to miss winter yet? …to miss the snow and ice?

if you haven’t lived in a northern country, you really don’t know that it’s actually warm when it snows. when the snow falls so quietly in big fluffy flakes, it’s beautiful, warm and it’s almost as if time stands still. one of my favourite moments in winter is taking a stroll during a light snow fall, my tongue sticking out to lick a snowflake. I look behind and with my eyes, trace my footprints behind me, lone steps quietly and slowly covered with fresh flakes. walking through an untouched blanket of fresh white snow is like exploring a new land untouched by any other human being.

and so these photos are some of my favourites of Y. they capture what it is that I love about snow. I’ve been trying to encourage Y to start a photoblog. he’s quite a talented photographer and I think it’ll only encourage him to get better at it. he’s learning the language of the camera and it’s a constant dialogue between the tools and the work.

the first photo is one of the courtyards at Victoria College’s residences at University of Toronto. the university’s main campus is right downtown. to walk through the campus is like crossing an island in a city of cars, glass and steel. it is one of the nicest parts of the city. Victoria College is not my alma mater, but I love this photo very much. it’s my desktop on my iBook.

the second photo was taken from Y’s office, overlooking the intersection on a very blustery winter day. it’s a typical scene in downtown Toronto. cars moving slowly through the mud coloured snow. the city iced over with a blanket of winter snow. while it might be a cold scene for those people who live in, say sunny LA, it makes me feel warm inside, because the perspective is from the inside of a warm place, looking outside. you’re feeling safe and shielded. it’s why I love watching lightning storms and rain storms, but only on the inside. if you read my post on dinosaurs, you’ll notice that this is the same corner where you see the ROM undergoing renovations.

the third photo is of the fountain in the urban park in Yorkville. Y and I call it the ugly park because it’s more of a display than a public space. yet, over the years, it has grown on me. in the winter, the water freezes on the metal wires, making this natural sculpture of ice on the wire. the first time I saw it in the summer, I didn’t know what the point was. but then it froze in the winter, and we all kinda went.. ahhhhhh…. the rest of the park is made up of various gardens that represent different types of Canadian landscape. a giant chunk of the Canadian Shield, pieces cemented back together again after being transported in from the country. evergreen trees in round cement pots. a ground level bridge across a tiny marsh. wild bushes and flowers around a forest of trees to walk through with your shopping bags from Holt Renfrew or the Pottery Barn.

I think most of my friends would disagree, but I think I'm cold and icy. there's something inside of me that makes me look at the world very coldly. but through my eyes, I see a frozen and beautiful world.