If you want to know about me, ask the stars; they paint me between the spaces with wind, clouds and a pinch of destiny at the end of their brush. If you want to hear me, listen to whole notes. If you want to touch me, reach for paper baptized in ink and the sweat of imagination. If you want to see me, close your eyes...

When the Gods run out of muses my sordid life entertains them, I dare say. But in this act there are endless roles. Don't be shy, there is room for everyone... infinity is never crowded.

Oh, you've probably heard my story before, only I can tell it to you far better than any. The issue is trusting someone who barely trusts herself. Why, you ask? The only relevant answer is, why not!

I am consistently inconsistent, and red blooded... a cherry flavored sponge.

LET'S GET READY TO...STUMBLE!

- THIS JUST IN--I play hide & seek with 300lbs Siberian Tigers. Only if they go by the name Sergei!

- I'm doing YOUR life, on it's back. Like, I am the liaison between you and your clothes... le sexyLOL!!111OMGWTFBBQSAUCE!!#@!!@&*())(&%cuccumbertuesyday*()&?$@@!!!DIENAOPLS

- Lurking in the background, suggestively peeling bananas in all the supposed ''big foot'' footage.

- Putting the laugh in slaughter.

- Cracking the ''what's really in your hotdog'' code.

- Wondering what all the Presidents would look like as Muppets--oh, wait!

- Parking in parkways, driving in driveways.

- Ensuring my place in the dictionary under: ''Snarkastic.''

- Evoking ironic and smiley ''oh shit'' reactions.

- Unsuccessfully contesting that I am just as ''heady'' & ''evasive'' as my friends cut me out to be (so much for the hope of mystique perfectibility) & yet, exercising what inalienable rights were endowed to me a la disrupting the generic; the social constructions; the labels society attempts to tape on the vision boards of our minds; the conservative epidemics; gendered politics, ageism etc. (Addendum: so it is in words as it is in life, nothing is black and white; anything written here is but an approximation, nothing is indefatigably true, except what is objective and as I am an emergent and evanescent being my nature defies such category, except be it by principles inbetween the lines). Feel free to test my tenacious grip on liberalism. :) I pose as a cultural attaché posing as a radical lashing at the cosmos with abandon, yet intensely abreast of current affairs and free agency. Did you understand that? Me neither.

I'd like to think I am too restless/reckless to be smothered by ideas individual of my own subjectivity but know better (still suspended in the relative wake of my Western Lit. professor who accused me of being too cerebral for the college educational institution NOT THAT I WAS EVER TEPID), my varied library attests otherwise, that personal plethora of papered parents if you would, had both mainstream and offbeat voices which gratefully governed my own. But you still aren't getting your shelf space! I am openly influenced by many and my forums of expression are ever changing but remain in common with genuineness and ingenuity... for instance this isn't English you are reading, it is Morse code, only I have mastered a way to subliminally manipulate your reptilian core on a quantum level so it's immediately absorbed and processed. Yep. Still following?

Excuse the contrivance, it stumps me terribly when eccentricity is expected to snag on seriousness (I just lol'd imagining myself saying that aloud pretentiously, btw). At any rate, now that you are plenty acquainted with the fact that I pander to the absurd... before the scale tips irreparably: I am a former YorkU honors philosophy student, gone Humber Horticultural Science major on account of a poorly masked case of treehuggerness. But really, there is that 300+ acre inheritance thing; I am living proof that passion and pragmatism can marry... albeit stubbornly never trading in my sparkly pumps for a pair of galoshes. By the end of this year I will be a certified WHOREticulturist and hope to be practicing in a GTA park, arboretum or greenhouse near you; come pluck the petals and bark with me. Just...fuck rightly off when I get a splinter if you know what's good for you.

Ignore the fact that I moonlight as an environmental activist (an eco-anarchist by any other name), humanist, bean counter, singer, neurotic skull fucker, hairdyecologist, armchair philosopher, sometimes sovereign...and the lead in a dance with what's appreciably macabre, new wave or self indulgent.

Guess one could say I am not a surface worker. I prefer to dig deeper everyday, gives me cause to breathe deeper as well, with time to think before swallowing down what nonsense the dreaded plebeian packs may regurgitate. Ah, but I am just as guilty as the next... I have been caught smiling to Lady Gaga.

I wish to balance work with healthy liberation so my heart doesn't die and my mind doesn't turn sterile (want more details? ask me). Might explain why epistemology is my mainspring. I live to satisfy all realms of myself, the emotional, physical, spiritual etc. Imbalance is not a friend, experiencing it does nothing but dig one an early grave and, though I love the feel of it, I look better when I'm not buried up to my ears in dirt. I don't have any aversion to rolling in it for good measure though, just don't ask me to, "squeal like a pig, boy!"

If I cannot carpet my career alongside my personal life I will die unhappy, that is if I decide to quit being, as THEY say, one of the ''cool ones'' and succumb to the immortality impaired. Oh, yes. More to the point, I am trying even harder to leave a beautiful human mess of a legacy, when I'm done with Pandora's box I might let you have a peek inside. For now and to eternity there are a significant pair of eyes I'm sharing it with, in LOVE (this love is not by Hollywood definition but definitive in its throwback to 60s-like zeitgeist; with challenges that lift visionaries from their frog ponds. It is one of the obvious reasons why I feel it is not necessary to expose myself completely here, stripped of metaphors and nuances...I dare say for the first time in my life I have allowed something to fulfill me). But, we're not greedy, so--pull up a chair. Or love-making lounger! ;)

Helping you remember to never forget. Electric talking; telling you everything and nothing; prompting intellectual/emotional avalanches. Living locally, thinking globally. Feeling with my eyes, seeing with my fingers. Attracting freak archetypes. Cultivating obscure cult flicks. Shedding skin. Drinking rain. Capturing lightning in bottles. Over turning rocks. Restless leg syndrome. Untying knots. Shadow puppets. Feigning maturity (but never interdependence). Bed & breakfasting. Singing more than I speak (unabashedly commandeering your car radio and ruining your fav song with mock lyrics). Overanalyzing. Over stating Latin clichés. Dancing without music (clothing optional). Anachronism. Spiritual alchemy. Eating all the cherries in your Bordeaux. Licking vinyl. Peppering what would normally be salted. Worrying about my carbon footprint until I annoy you enough to question yours or anger you enough to make it worse. Turning you onto addictions. Meow-meow. Zoom-zoom. Whip-whip. Ambivalence (guilty of changing my major 3 times so far!)

It is the menial stuff I prefer not to do... small talk and doing dishes for instance, such things boggle and exhaust me. I chalk them up to petty distractions from death. Silly, silly humans and their pointless habits.

I notice them. I aggrandize; my insatiable desire to connect can make Gods out of simpletons. Yeah, and I do it without a chintzy magic wand too! I am empathetic to a fault, yet harbor entropic tendencies (perhaps because I have seen where community empowerment has fallen flat, though my faith in people is unwavering that which I've invested in the system is another story). Ostensibly, I am contradictory. But I always focus (on widening my circle of concern). Not to mention I "BAM" when I should "BADUM-CHING"...beware my rebellion. I'm that girl that goes to a white party, wearing all black, that background girl with foreground potential (you know the one that didn't care to pique in high school); cue ominous music.

I immerse, struggle and emerge just to push myself out of biases and paint the walls with my discoveries, sometimes literally (art is God!) I recently discovered I am not craft impaired and have thus organized a project per week, fyi. OMG to the DIY, glue really is sniff worthy. Ahem. Life is a multi-layered labyrinth, an incremental platform and I have learned to use it... and when the situation calls for it, I sometimes jump right off. I'd prefer not to push you over my edge, but if I must force... I aim to join the ranks of Jack Kerouac's blissfully intrepid "MAD ones" and hope to find equals who burn just as bright; willing to lose themselves in the rapture and turn over, again and again in the light.

I work daily to reconcile my wants with my needs, body with my spirit, my being with YOUR being, succeeding to leave one hell of a blazing eclectic trail... my life tends to be of extremes, from protests, to lectures (guilty of crashing many at schools I am not a member of), to yoga, to cliff diving, to 10km hiking, to metal concerts, to stratford festivals, to spontaneous road trips (with the love of my life as the taxi), to aboriginal pow-wows, to organic farming, to all night art fests (nuit blanche!), to hermitism expressed in the obsession of reading an entire tome within a day in low light, to sadomasochism, etc.

Burn with me?

I tend to let love lead (where ignorance does not), ergo, if you have a heart I respect your right to live by default and will shine little rays of hybrid-love on you just because you exist, however if you concede there is a chance I will expect that love to be reflected 10 fold sans excuse. CARE BEAR STARE! But, turn the page a curious way and sometimes I bite first... just to tell which crumpets are really and truly alive. But no worries, many have been known to survive this (only if I let them!) This does not mean I am desperate, just insatiable as an indiscriminate mad-cap wannabe philanthropist can be...or maybe it's that selfish demand for a world with colour, and it can't be colourful if people lack the confidence to paint it.

I'll let you call me a Hippie... only if you come into my circle with a peace pipe, Lennon memorabilia, Argento's camera and a heart that rivals mine. Bi-monthly blood sacrifices to the darkside are expected being a Libra it's only appropriate I keep the balance. Being an even blend of good/evil does wonders for the soul's complexion, trust me. . .

Furry animals, little children, graduates of Grace Jones' institute for wayward glitz girls, goths, rainbowlicious men, goblins and I get along well too, but if your identity is in thrall with the capitalist system... I'm damn well not going to sit beside you on the bus; allow me to enjoy a look at you eating your own foot however, corporate cannibals! I'll leave my reasons why up to your imagination.

I also tend to speak in a language punctuated by passion and not convention, creation and not consumption, spiritual and not material--few want to speak it back but I am of the opinion that it's due to their lack of trying... or that I am teetering on insanity! One never can be too sure, kids.

I seek to understand not to be understood. I am nothing if not borrowed... belonging to the world, the world not belonging to me...

Freud, if you'd like an accurate picture of my psychology, don't look to my interests, look to my actions. 'Sides, summing it up is torture, it's like asking me to favor certain children above the rest (though I am sure the principle of that matter is sadly not intelligible to some). Alas, this blasted text box is too damn confining to fit all my muses, so I'll give you 2 current loves per category (which totally devour the rest because of their sheer brilliance anyway) and there will be a quiz on this so pay attention;

Books (fiction): While England Sleeps, Fire From Heaven (I am quite the Alexander/Hephaestion history aficionado, if I may say so, Alexander was only ever conquered in the bedroom yatta yatta).
Books (non fiction): Empire Of Illusion, End Game.
Movies: Suspiria, In Bruges. (But I'm totally partial to indie films, OLD Hollywood + foreign productions, note: I am a shameless devout avant garde & asian culture whore)
Movies (documentaries): ANYTHING MICHAEL MOORE, BILL MAHER!
Music: Dir en grey, Patrick Wolf.
Artists: Takato Yamamoto.
Poets: W.N Hodgson, Charles Baudelaire.
Politicians: Pierre Elliot Trudeau.
Heroes: The inventor of Post its, Ask a ninja. ha
Who I'd sell a kidney to for a conversation: Dalai Lama, David Sukuzi.
Foods: See all of the above. . . with a touch of cherry liquor. ;)

What I discounted will most likely terrorize me in some uber Freudian way, YAY more fun for my therapist. [/sarcasm]

A E I O U and ALWAYS Y!

What? I spent all my creative tokens on that time machine I just built...

The fact that I am thinking. The fact that the status quo does nothing but encourage us to escape thinking, or at least distracts from the BIG picture, one that involves changing the infrastructure to kick isolation and poverty in the ass (just call me MARX), depletion of oil, polar ice-caps, natural gas and rainforests, puppy mills... the sad death of spandex, the fact that the Governator will never Terminate on screen again, le sigh, ARNIE HOW I MISS THEE. ;( REVOLUTION JUST DOESN'T SPIN RECORDS RIGHT ROUND, FOLKS!

Doctors didn't deem me an insomniac because they felt like abusing their medical licenses, a lot of issues percolate and keep me up at night and for good reason... because I let them. If not me, who else is gonna break the world from it's ignorant slumber? I wear a sense of entitlement like a freeze dried smile; power fed by hyperbole. Woe, the plight of the martyr; everything pours down like rain until I float to the surface with new found stress. Chinese torture ain't got nothing on my tautological mind methods... but I can't say the subsequent sobriety isn't worth the price. I wear awareness like the badge I never got in Girl Guides, it's just too bad senility is not awarded... ONE DAY I'LL GET MY DUES, ONE DAY.

Hint, hint: I shut up when there's incense and smoke on the breeze and oldies spinning...

- Crying because I realized my dessert was really a salad.

- Sacrificing babies so not to breach my contract with Satan, ONE MORE BODY AND I GET ME A PORSCHE. Hi, I am a bad joke, please do not throw bricks.

- If my lips are readily available and I am not passionately kissing, ass or otherwise--I am most definitely calling you up and trying to prove I am more of a historical encyclopedia than you could ever be and can out-quote you to the death, while I am at it I will cunningly juice you of the dreamers goods, planning how to drag nonbelievers to hidden corners of the world, adding to abstract Utopian spiritual synthesis, or perhaps I am planting a tree in your bathtub garden, acting out Shakespeare in the shower--your shower, or drawing Picasso-esquelly on my pants or your naked back (with which my original art has been compared to), or Karaokeing the shit out of H.I.M, or having an awkward staring contest with you because you called my 3am Tim Horton's binges a psychosis (so what if I dip my donut in philosophy), or yelling at the FLAMES to anticipate the fuckin' PUCK, or writing what Hemingway couldn't, or bragging about the grand life-affirming hike I just got back from, or spinning dizzily in my own circles... or not just producing run on sentences, but flippin' literary marathons! HAR HAR

Ok fine, I resign. I'm lost in the bloody woods, but taking a compass is fuckin' cheating! My North Star is my own heart and it likes to get caught in the throes of unexpected deliverance. Anyway, one must lose themselves to find themselves (and sometimes join a wolf pack and howl all their problems out at the moon): that's not just some tag line printed on t-shirts.

I boil at room temperature, yes really, but never need salt.

I believe my teddy bears still come alive when I close my bedroom door.

If you trespass on my farm you'll find out whether or not I have my non-restricted firearms license. ;)

I am anti umbrellas (except be it to bridge an act of kindness; I'll block out the rain if you're under my umbrella to block out what's negative in the world if only as long as the rain pours.)

I egg the proletarians on.

Reading while in movement (driving) makes me embarrassingly nauseous, but I can't help but do it anyway.

I see red when witness to the obsession of texting while technophobes are in the company of others and find myself talking louder in confronting rebel disruption. RIP the proliferation of oratory opinion... Huxley warned us about this!

I own many a pin to burst bubbles.

I'm too free for underwear.

My cat had an affair with Tiger Woods too...

You are Jared Leto... otherwise what the french call "un bel esprit."

You understand that I am merely on this site to strengthen my SENSE OF HUMOR. & my psychological prowess.

You buy cereal just to dig out the toy, more so than you did when your parents bought it for you.

You cringe knowing beauty is in the eye of the ''beer holder'' and laugh knowing so many drink what's stronger than them.

You agree that ''Currie'' lingerie is appropriate church attire... I'm your Ch-ch-ch-ch-ch-ch-CHERRY BOMB! ;D

Life is your sport and you plan to alter my mind and the rest of the world with more than selfish plays and vain clap trap drivel that dwarfs intellectual capacity. In laymen terms, if you offer hollow sentiments, don't expect me to follow suit and hollow my soul. One zombie is one too flippin many. I am here to socialize not fuckatize, there are plenty of dolls designed for receiving hot air. ;)

You pretend that the aforementioned didn't come straight from my tight arse, i.e I am self righteously talking out of my ass. Or as is deserving, you can tell me off in more than one language! I am harmless, I swear... chalk the bravado up to a quirky sense of humor, I would never presume to judge.

You died a little on the inside when Mommy told you never to ''talk to strangers.''

You agree that one door closes so another can open and that sometimes less is more.

You're on a horse and the tickets are now diamonds... (OLD SPICE LOVE!)

You would give Bambi the hunter's gun.

You believe you can't buy love in a store.

Your paradise is an organic coffee shop, nestled behind a waterfall, where nobody really drinks coffee, the air wreaks of it but the cups are made to cradle ideas; eventually thrown at the stone walls, sliding down under the faux feathered cushions to be found and shared like forbidden secrets by future civilizations... I take my imagination with steeped romance and an endless supply of sugar, obviously.

You can say ''persistent perversity provokes the patient pedagogue to produce particularly painful punishment'' 10 times fast, clearly, with a straight face and FULL comprehension.

You discern that monogamy is not a wood and that "Fair trade" has nothing to do with collecting more leik awesome Pokemon cards from your besties. (I am proud of that quip, yeah thanks.)

You are not averse to walking a tight rope.

You can trace your foot steps from one end of the globe to the next.

You can tolerate ''crazy cat ladies."

You respect me starboard t' be respected...on International Talk Like A Pirate Day, which doubloonscidentally could turn into every day, yarrrr!

You are not afraid to break a mirror...

over your own head.

YOU HAVE THE RECIPE TO THE SECRET SAUCE OF ULTIMATE JUSTICE--NOT TO BE CONFUSED WITH DRACULA'S BLOOD, though that would indeed be a treat. If I felt like dying young. Hey, even veterans have trouble swallowing down what's corrosive, you never get used to the bubbling reminder that you're all too... alive. Should never want to. Mortality kisses so very deeply. . . touches parts of us none other could. I say, bring it on!

If I spit my own blend of crimson on your skin, would you let it eat through; ingrain, in shapes of frivolous rapture, carry me around inside your pores and hallucinate meaning? If you say you need Clearasil or something after reading that (hahaha), or maybe even a towel, I don't think you're talking to the right person, here. I like to pick at pseudo poetic/emotional scabs.

Morbid winkage goes here, again... maybe a little tushy shake too, but I'll make my own beat, thanks.

This is the part where you shake your head, dear audience. For what am I on and where can you get some?