last night i dreamt henry, chuck, and i were going to a festival. streets packed. chuck & i overconfident in our abilities to play the entirety of dragon new warm mountain i believe in you as a set. back into the house, off a stoop, henry & i find chuck sleep-humming. i join. when i wake, i realize it was angels off b-sides. i find that funny, give it two passes, and conclude i don't need to add it to any playlists right now. wet hair, i'm humming biggie smalls, tiny laughs about what songs get stuck in our heads, making up my spot on the couch before i make my coffee, opening blinds, turning on lights. starting a two hour video talking about a bad ocd book at a low volume, i see that emma must have just added angels to a playlist. i let myself slow down. everything is there, at my edges. none of it is too personal, but of course i get to feel it personally. it is everything, after all
i guess, politically, i'm a lesbian who fucks; interpersonally, i'm a romantic; and, physically, i'm asexual. whatever that means. should i put this on my linkedin???
got over the initial waiting freeze, i think. it's so snowy out there now. '1–2 weeks' must really mean two, then. i dunno. mostly brainstorming other jobs i can seek? i need stability, and low stakes, and also it's okay for me to want for better conditions than those typical of sex work.
never felt this frozen waiting for anything before, but i guess i've never worked full-time either! laying in bed now. very pretty clouds out there.
move-in day, chuck immediately had a bag of fancy french sprays, make-up, and bright nail polishes for me to take. it was their old stuff, never used. they told me later, driving the pussywagon, "is that okay? one of my love languages is grooming," and explained how one of their clients had been a young trans man fighting a bigoted family to get on hrt. chuck helped him get on hrt. the other day, they had a pink scrunchie to give me, and flung it in that ironic thumb-ironsight way. i did not successfully catch it. at one point, they were doing a rotation of what-mirrors-go-where in the house, and i briefly spotted them as they put a big mirror by the door. i caught the plastic cover that got knocked off the doorbell (at their request, "with haste!!"), then attested that the mirror was lined up perfectly with the lightswitch. they otherwise don't want to be doted on when doing housework like that, maybe most especially during a flare-up. i'm wearing the pink scrunchie now, back to bed. i really like it here
woke up from the night's nightmare, suddenly aware of my safety. i was feeling like there was going to be a second move; there was going to be some dissatisfied construction project that consumed my whole life, away from any chance at employment. i'm going to share that i'm stressed about the job call this week.
also, i go nonverbal sometimes. that's literally not bad. they both work with autistic kids in the community, giving them therapy. they both think i'm sweet. henry called me cool. chuck called me an angel. everyone's so thoughtful all the time. i'm going to tell them i was taking most of yesterday to cry. emma would like it here
lights off, tucked into bed, wondering: can i sleep from dusk till dawn? certainly a wintery challenge. i hope this regulates me; waiting to hear back about my potential life-altering job offer all week, or, getting a call first thing tomorrow that decides it. chuck is going thru it with their grad school application: waiting. their partner is so nice. he was asking me about i saw the tv glow. "i need to rewatch it!" obviously i'm there for his rewatch journey. he's helping out, which has me trying to picture my hypothetical partner helping me in this moment. they'd just be with me in this twin bed. i would have no fear in my mind that they're trying to have sex with me. they'd braid my hair, telling me about stuff.
crying even as i sit upright now! uh-oh! i'm criss cross applesauce and i'm still crying what do i do what do i do
i am definitely touch starved and also terrified of giving up my boundaries on sex again and also still haven't figured out how to actually have those boundaries and i have no interest in slamming myself into brick walls to figure that out. but i'm so lonely. there are solutions without violence. those are the only things we can call solutions, actually. it's true because i can imagine it
just needed to lie down and let my tears roll on their own. it happens.
melancholic walk thru wloo park (rootbeer in gloved hand) and a bit of crying waiting for my bus home. might nap up here in my room. full-body tired. got worried about my knee. got flush, maybe embarrassed, on the computer. maybe i'm depressed. i need a job, so whatever. hhhhhhhh
bus ride back! i think all my trauma is cured!
just me on here. i'm da king of da bus. is there a word for asexual hyperromantic that sounds cool... no
most earnest guy alive waiting for the 4. i'm waiting for the 5. "it's a disgrace," he says about late buses. pivot to how really only the ion is good, "are you a student? you dropped out of music!?" he says i look like weird al yankovic, the old one, with the hair and the glasses. i say thank you with a joy that is nothing but sincere. there's the 4. blogging about it
more stunned seeing a random blue truck from my window than i ever was at a face i thought i recognized on the bus. go figure. i wrote a good album, i think! nervous to see cath. i hope they are well, also i hope i am well. i hope i don't break down (daily hope since birth), and i also hope i am not closed off. we never really knew eachother, but also, we obviously know eachother. i hope we know eachother moving forward! there's never really any way for me to prepare questions, nor to prepare what to do with my body. i kind of want to come out as all sorts of things all at once, like a cloud of smoke. i kinda wanna just walk around.
excited by the prospect of releasing my own album today. type of thing i would tell random strangers, as though i were ebenezer scrooge giving them an uncharacteristically joyful treasure they will cherish moving forwards. two weeks! actually, just ten days. but all it took was that change!! jeez!!!!!!!
in & out of my room with an ease and moment-to-moment impulse i can genuinely never remember having. it's intuition, bruv! door open, in-ears genuinely just hanging over my ears, listening to my girly hype music (highway 61 revisited) as i play another rocket league match. da life
she is FORAGING and HUNTING and GATHERING and BRAVING THE ARCTIC and BEING VERY BRAVE ABOUT THE ANKLE'S WORTH OF FLUFFY DUSTING GETTING KIND OF IN HER BOOT ON THE ONE MINUTE WALK TO DOLLARAMA. and she is buying clam chowder & an oh henry for henry & a steal-worth of other good snacks for the chilly night in. and she is making the good kind of ramen right now after she goes downstairs in her jammies again and washes her hands et cetera
getting ready to make the trek to our corner store (shopper's drug mart; no, actually, dollarama!) while the sun's out (hello, again, blue)! restocking on snacks, gna ask henry "want anything?" etc etc. chuck found the ginger snacks they mentioned yesterday, and they're so strong and the sugar fits so suprisingly well?? they made us all tea (orange pekoe; extra stock from the garage; a deviation from the david's tea standard of this rich home).
henry asks, "out there? in the cold?" and remarks on her aversion to ever doing such a thing. i am winning affection every time she calls me a freak or weirdo, as per our shared cultural standard. i am obviously the weirder one, given my nonchalance about omegaverse stuff. "stay safe!" and i laugh, genuinely thinking it was a joke for the seconds i was stepping out the door. then i took it to heart, though
2122
★★★½
i don't know the rolling stones and i was just listening to highway 61 revisited and i wanted a better vibe. here we are! i fucking love when he do the little vocalizations... i bet someone like rick rubin would say "no don't do that" to the vocalizations and that is why we gotta [redacted]
3d country
★★★★★
me when i'm literally blushing. what is going on. i felt like this one time listening to a jacob collier song in high school. so so concerning. what the fuuuck... love when so much is going on but it sounds pleasant too. like, you can do that if you want! smiling and fixing one of the keys on this here clacker. pretty sure there was just some dirt in thar. but it's the '-' key so you really notice when there's a double entry! HIT ME, MOTHERFUCKER! things i will only say in a song :)
cowboy nudes
★★★★
HARRY STYLES??? hahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahaha. the blushing continues wowwwwwwww... literally losing it at this point. my door is open i hope the 3/4 view of the back of my head does not look too deranged. i am justified however. i wonder if i will ever get big cans for my head again! prob not. felt so burned by those insane-expensive sonys getting fucking wrecked by some mild ottawa cold. whateva. my ear canals r so warm and all my in-ear configurations are in my comfortable, familiar zone anyway. i don't think i need to block out much noise, anymore, anyway. wooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo
i see myself
★★★★½
coffee break! i take that shit basically white these days. fancy/working keurig and costco pods actually taste rlly good with dairy, no need for sugary alchemy nor to hide the coffee grinds (there aren't any wtf). tryna pick a spot in my room to hook my lil snark tuner onto that would feel fun and camp. already had this song liked, no idea when that happened. fucking rocks tho. hello kitty mug btw
undoer
★½
could this be the first geese song i listen to and fully not like... i dunno, don't play with me right now cameron. i don't like the sounds of being at the dentist i'm sorry!!! i'm sorry!!! dad sending me progress pics of a five-string kit bass as if to confirm. skipped around halfway thru!
crusades
★★½
ok yes so now i hear the stones influence or whatever they're all saying. always good to wear these things on the sleeve, as i avoided this album for what was on the tin. no worries! every band really does have room to grow xoxo
gravity blues
★★★½
generally cute, like endearing or whatever. it's when he sings low that gets me! also, kind of beatles harmonies or something? gotta finish this coffee before 3 PM lest i fall asleep at some crazy hour like 11 PM. i can rock with these kinds of glass shard sound effects, just not those other ones. wawawa vavava voom
mysterious love
★★★
my deodorant smells so good here for some reason, like maybe mixes well with my new soaps? i pick em well. the way it says 'MEN' under the grey 'unscented' label is so funny to me now. my butch deodorant tea... we're way too into the '70s with this fucking song, which is kind of what endears it to me. every criticism i make is one i hope would make anthony fantano's head explode. but it probably wouldn't, he seems generally level-headed and self-satisfied in his position of authority or something. why am i saying this at all
domoto
★★★★
big thumpy fucking piano bass yes yes yes hello and what else even. thjis guy really does write like dylan. and now the chorus kind of sounds like twenty one pilots? fucking awesome. saint joseph mention. i'm so good at hanging stuff on my walls. chuck complimented the cleverness of my idea to hang guitars by their cases.
tomorrow's crusades
★★★★
holding a decently impressive plateau at the end of the album? with cool/alt arrangement of violins and stuff? black country; new road gets their american competition. ohhh. brief embarassment, then going back to enjoying the music. whateva! glad to get this one under the belt, who shall i listen to next? i have the instinct to critique some bob dylan, but i use him to lock into rocket league these days. lmfao
st. elmo
★★
girl, whatever! no worries
you'd love the arrangement of my hello kitty posters. you'd love the contrasts in my room; how it all fits together intuitively. i don't know much else, actually. i think that's what lingers. i want to know what you think of my roommates—i can make my guesses, even hope to pre-emptively shield you from the shame you might feel—but mostly, i just hope you'll feel safe enough to share some more honest thoughts with me. i saw this cover by random chance (or at least, as random as random can be these days), and i wished so hard i'd find a way to send it to you. that was probably just a month ago, but that feels lifetimes away, now. here it is, then: Hobos lullaby - YouTube
isn't his voice so pretty?
staying in today literally just to stay warm. new concept to me. i am so fucked if they think my references are sketchy. or not, i literally do not know. no one taught me this stuff, or i didn't let them, or i don't give a shit let me live in peace. whilst chuck & stinky were taking their morning nap (this time set to the true crime doldrums of bones—later season, which is when it got bad, apparently), i softly asked henry, "henry, did you buy these cinnamon swirl loaves?" to which henry mouthed/signed the words, "they're all yours." i smiled and did a hang-ten, for some reason. she clearly got them on her way home yesterday, after what seemed like literally the biggest day ever. they were 50% off at shopper's (huge pink sticker, hello), which sets the new precedent under which i will be buying these pastries for henry & i, moving forward. chuck & i are kind of body doubling gamers, here upstairs. they're working on their master's application, and i am here blogging. i am trying to insist they take all the time they can on giving me their old nightstand (they have to take the stuff off of it, and find a new home for said stuff—nuff said) because i would not be able to accept the gift of their nightstand under any sort of duress. also, in the way henry reminds me of myself & the people from my childhood, chuck's spirit reminds me strongly of
yeah!
i want to be reached out to. of course i want that. i feel everything all the time. i think i feel more than is appropriate. i don't think i can dilute it. obviously, i'm marianne. obvious to me. show's not so bad. have to watch it in the living room, for my sake.
do i reach out again? i don't know how to. can i? i don't know. i want to.
on the wikipedia page for quakers bc i might wanna see that ann lee movie. that's all, actually.
random encounter with julia on the bus, yesterday, after my job (lifelong career) interview at long & mcquade. mutual what-the-fuck-lol faces at eachother felt like the icebreaker, and all we ended up really saying was 'cats' and 'we have cats,' which is actually quite lovely, and adult, i think. consensus was: cats r crazy, but that's the point. stinky (the cat) currently loafing on my lap/abdomen, wrangled by my throw wrapped over him. he's been sooo restless in an empty house (halsey concert sunday, chuck & henry came back last night). i'm taking on the sisyphean task of keeping him occupied and cuddled as the morning routine kicks back into gear. i relate to everything about him.
ended up turning off repeat-one, feeling ecstatic once katy perry came on. i got a call on the bus about an interview monday. that was so quick. recording ended up an amalgamation, maybe even a surprise. necessary part of discovering honesty. typing this one-handed in the costco checkout line. kids behind me self-advocating to their parents using terms like 'overstimulated.' food court food looks sick as hell. so packed. really stressful job, working here. i'm sweating. feeling like the pride of the house today. got an ice cream cone: swirl.
spotify on repeat-one today. looping the song i know i'm interpolating with the day's uptown-walk lyrics. old guy at the music store said i could probably wing band knowledge with my experience. full-time, woah mama. writing this from the bus stop. now the bus! capital!!
my hair's just like this. the twin bed suits me—it's just an extension of my cushy body. we breathe in polyrhythm. we're getting in a few decades of rest, and then we're watching a movie, and then we're trying something new. maybe there's a café, i don't know. i buy a lot of groceries, or maybe these are just pastries on clearance. i know exactly how to make your coffee. i cry just like this, and i get sad on cloudy, windy days like this. it rains, and so there's rest again. there's so much to organize everywhere. there's a snack table in a meadow, and the wedding photographer can't get the reins on anyone. by chance, your biggest smile is caught in a blur just at the edge of the frame. i'm flowing. it's glossy paper in a book somewhere, and we are made notorious for the love we found in the world. eventually, we don't know who keeps these memories, but they know us. they have faith in love, because of us.
beautiful shower tiles that hold on to the hair that leaves. there are no more knots to untangle. it's an hour every morning, an hour i can't help but take with gratitude. younger roommate is younger by a technicality of months; we take the silence head-on together, and i will buy her pastries whenever i'm out. older roommate is older only on paper; we ask probing questions together, and i will buy them popcorn twists whenever i'm out.
i want to listen to everything so badly. there is nothing to drown out, so there is nothing i need to liquify. i want to lean in, to let all states of matter take me on.
giving my hair a damp-scrunch for good measure, then putting on pyjamas, then heading downstairs for morning coffee. there are so many things to talk about. there's not a single place or time i can't take a phone call here.
that feeling when we're quiet around eachother, and i hardly know you! but i feel like i do; i feel like: we are in a space in-between together, and we don't see eachother, but we know eachothers' presences. it's really romantic, and it's what family is supposed to be. not everyone got that, but we're learning to manage the feeling of finally getting it. i get it.
night before the move. i couldn't believe it all fit in the truck, i can't believe it all fits in the truck; i can never believe how quickly i pack, or how much more efficient i get at it each time. mind you, i have more stuff to pack each time!
i kissed ethan & bailey on their left shoulders as we said goodbye last night. not sure what that was about. forgiveness? the questions they asked, or rather their trepidation on the whole subject of me, and moreso the questions they didn't ask, reminded me of something i'm working on forgiving. it's present in everyone; no amount of it could scare me now. ethan's going to work for tesla for four months, and for him i am excited that he will get to experience a different country/climate in nevada. it was literally just this sunday i pulled the teeth that revealed to me his offer of housing had always been hollow, that revealed there really was no fuss i could have made to get the help i was asking from him. i forgave him as it happened, because i knew, for him, it felt like being twelve again. for me, it put me back in the hopelessness that he'd been hoping to keep from seeing. it took until wednesday at noon, when i got the news of my luck persisting, that i could tell he'd finally relaxed on the matter. i felt bad for him for each of those days.
listening to my moment-to-moment playlist! my pick-me-up playlist! what a concept! what a joy! what a blessing! of course, i've still got worries to drown, there's still one more gambit to play tomorrow: i have to pretend my awesome/cool/gay new roommates (with a cat! a hairless cat! a hairless fucking, sphynx-whatever, cat!) used to have ethan as a roommate, that, more importantly, this move was just serendipitous, financially-neutral happenstance because of ethan's big co-op win, and that i, too, believe we've gone soft on children, that sometimes they just need a good smack. it's funny, in a horribly-sad-irony way, to watch a man cry through the overwhelming, repressed emotion that comes up from recalling a childhood of violence from adults, and to watch him reaffirm, in real-time, his belief that this was beneficial to his development. i guess this is just the appeal of jordan peterson. it's scary, really—but that's not going to help me to sleep.
the rolling stones
★★★★★
gentle angel sweet baby angel. dudes will be like "his mom is the ceo of polyamory" as if that means he's an incel like them. and not talk about his concussions from youth football? this is a young man filled with love. 2026 is the year we stop saying 'old soul' and recognize (and care for!) disability fr
nausicaä (love will be revealed)
★★★★★
his songs give me this intense manic peace that idk how to explain. it's the sound i always imagined i'd have once i got rich from engineering and went ham on a fancy macbook with logic pro x. every little sound is its own guy, and i know the guy, and i love the guy!
love takes miles
★★★★★
waaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
drinking age
★★★★★
this is the point in the album where i go, jesus fucking christ i don't know if i can listen to a perfect album right now. piano arrangement really gets me through it. love love love how light his lyrics usually are, like just another one of the sounds even! pacing is so important in an album.
cancer of the skull
★★★★★
:) !! reminds me a lot of dragon new warm mountain i believe in you honestly. i fully believe his solo + band work could just be a discography of constant five star albums for me. what if joan baez and bob dylan also had their own bands as good as the beatles... adrianne lenker + cameron winter joining boygenius 2026 like pauls with wings or something idk the historical analogy for that. there is so much good music everywhere. i still cry a lil/lot to every one of these tracks even as i write btw
try as i may
★★★★★
definitive proof that i'm a permanent sucker for that bedroom production sound. not that i don't like bands, probably i'm just bc;nr-brained with the band arrangements i want. i wonder what jacob collier is getting up to rn? i will always appreciate his contribution, i mightn't have known your bedroom could sound orchestral like that otherwise... "you were born to break my big hairy football arms like clean windows kill the birds" jumpscare
we're thinking the same thing
★★★★★
it's called being in your twenties hunny ever heard of her????? hahahaha i looooove life like woah my goodness. everybody please be kind to my son he is just a human artist like the rest of us!
nina + field of cops
★★★★★
barn burner.
$0
★★★★★
i wonder if he'll use an ampersand in any of the song titles on his next album? really off-topic, whatever. this is just too fucking absurd though, right? like i'm not imagining the absurdity of this? suddenly i remember i have a voice, and that it's an instrument that i, too, know how to use in this way, and this is just a guy, and he's not me, but i'm enough like him that i could do this too! i really could! and isn't that just really fucking weird???
can't keep anything
★★★★★
really just darn sweet! if i ever wrote take it with you i'd think to myself, okay i've covered all the topics now i don't need to make an album. but he let it flourish! the world let him flourish. what a beautiful thing.
trinidad
★★★½
american white boy in ireland experiences island vacation on a technicality; unfortunately, there is most definitely a bomb in his car. from the basement version has a much better energy; doubtless a banger at live shows.
cobra
★★★★★
not only an excellent practice in vocal placement, but some of the most fun you can have singing a song at your dad.
husbands
★★★★½
decently angsty subversion of a lot of big thief songs; yes we are in a band. absolutely charmed by the immaturity of this. sort of awash in indescribable relief at the notion of the cowboy-poseur era ending; grunge is back baybee!
getting killed
★★★½
decent synopsis of a lot of green day songs.
islands of men
★★½
truly a feat to make each song its own island. a cool own, to dunk on your early-20s fantano fuckboy crowd like this, but are we just going to ignore the droves of early-20s trans women who love cameron winter? write a song like this about me cameron winter!!! timchal is getting woman'd right now, in a way that feels primed to gain him favour among young adult transgenders, so maybe i'm just (yet again) an early adopter to a forthcoming wave; maybe camwint won't notice this demographic shift until the next album? lead guitarist emily green, you are seen
100 horses
★★★★
the banshees of inisherin
half real
★★★★½
eternal sunshine of the spotless mind
au pays du cocaine
★★★★★
hello and this is the kind of songwriting i need to be doing even!
bow down
★★★
probably the gluey-est song on the record; least island-like. total meh; inoffensive.
taxes
★★★★½
you already know
long island city here i come
★★★★★
u alr kno