#this dude is playing raining blood on a fucking banjo

[spookirain]

just woke up from a migraine nap and had an inexplicable urge to go to youtube to watch bluegrass covers of thrash metal songs

#it actually goes hard #this dude is playing raining blood on a fucking banjo #10/10 would do again

[verytamenow]

Reputation Tour Movie: Reactions

On the off chance anyone has wanted to know what it’s like to deal with my commentary when I will not shut the fuck up, click that read more to get my Reputation Movie commentary!

Opening

- Taylor is the most extra bitch. I love her.

- Opening video still gives me chills

...Ready For It?

- The strobe lights make this as sometimes irritating to watch as it was live. Which is a pity because I love the performance.

I Did Something Bad

- Will idsb ever not give me chills and murder me?

- I want her to bite me when she snarls

- Her hips. The idiot giraffe is blessed.

- Her vocals

- Fuck Me Up

- The most precious happiest koala😭

- (spots a rep room wristband) lucky bitch

Gorgeous

- I’m So disappointed a step above gorgeous being gorgeous didn’t get immortalized in the tour video

- The assholes (I say out of jealousy) with the triangles. Why didn’t we think of that!

- “And I’m Taylor” Bitch I hope so. I spend so much on your ass.

- Stop looking like that Taylor it makes me feel things

Style

- I get why style made the set list and love the songs but justice for ootw

- That guitar riff gives me ALL THE FEELS

- yes bitch strut! Thank you Karlie Kloss

Love Story

- Aww all the throwback and legacy feels 

- Is it legal not to jump during this song?

- Boop.

- “I keep waiting for you but you never cum” is probably not a problem Taylor has. On either end.

You Belong With Me

- (proceeds to bounce in place because Taylor owns me)

- The parent holding up her daughter is Kristen in the future

Look What You Made Me Do

- The lwymmd pre video is my sexuality

- I want murderess snake queen Taylor to end. my. life.

- Would let her choke me

- I’m the bitch mouthing oh my god

- This is my favourite part of the tour ngl

- THAT SMIRK

- side note: also remember when we thought it was a dragon and not a snake?

- She really snapped and killed a bitch with this song

- THE INTENSITY WENT OFF AND HOW IS PIT NOT LOSING THEIR SHIT

- like mosh or something fuckers

- KARYN!

- I weirdly love the back vocals she recorded for lwymmd. The short “ah”s really make it

- The sass

- A queen

- I’m so gay

- This is why I’m doomed with whoever I date

End Game

- The disappointment Ed never guested on the tour

- The choreo for this is 🔥

- I mean all of it is but her hips

- Her legs are worth every penny of 40 million

- The hand over the face bit is an objectively weird closing move

King Of My Heart

- How do we actually make her America’s queen

- This is the softest song

- I stan komh so hard

- Like I love delicate but this is just as soft. Softer even

- I love I’m getting to see the other half of the choreo because we sat on the left side each time

- Up on the roof with a school girl crush /  Drinking beer out of plastic cups / Say you fancy me not fancy stuff / BABY ALL IT ONCE THIS IS ENOUGH

- This is the closest we’ve come to a poc love interest in anything she’s filmed. Except the End Game MV sort of.

- We didn’t stan the dancers hard enough

- The drums made this tbh

Delicate

- Oh gods I’m not ready for the delicate speech

- I’m the dude who screamed he loved her

- Bless the rainbow dress

- “Shit is that what is was on my wrist? I thought her stalker and taylurking ways had just finally gone to tracking bracelets.”

- (knock at the door) Me, pausing: umm I blocked out this entire 2 hours for our lorde and saviour Taylor Swift???

- (Scott Swift voice) I’m going back into my zone

- The lights are so pretty. No wonder Taylor loves the bracelets

- Bitch we know your unreleased stuff

- Do let’s go/battle as a surprise song and be shook

- 1! 2! 3! LET’S GO BITCH!

- Can you believe she flew right over us

- That little dance. She’s so fucking precious

Shake It Off

- B stage. Remember how she gave invisible to the gays

- And finally played breath

- The only redeeming thing for shake it off is that she made it as gay as she could

-I still wanna know what inspired “my ex man brought his new girlfriend...to the fella over there with the hella good hair” bit

- What did Di do? And who did Taylor hit on? Or is Karlie the one with the hella good hair?

- Giuseppe got down on one knee long before Karlie ever will

Dancing With Our Hands Tied

- How smug was Taylor when her jump to pop worked?

- There must have been so many I told you so’s

- It started raining. The closest I’ll ever come to a rain show.

- I can’t believe she played this song in Nashville with Karlie right there and kept her shit together

- Taylor’s never more magical then when it’s just her and a guitar

- I would give anything and go deep in debt to go to an acoustic show

- This filter was unnecessary and such a call out

- She had one fuck left and it’s name is alliterative All Too Well

- I hope she keeps doing acoustic surprise songs like this next tour. Where it’s a set thing.

- I’m so relieved she approves of lyric tattoos. Like....imagine if she didn’t and I have my entire forearm

- Put down your fucking phones and watch her be magic personified

- Also fuck this song for being so powerful

- The way she sings the bridge

- Now did she really lose the 12 minute version or is it just a little too obvious who it’s about

- Her wink! I’d die

- Is that chick okay? Did she live?

Blank Space

- The crowd walk! I’m still so so fucking endlessly proud

- Look at her!

- My precious angel reclaiming walking through her fans

- How the fuck are these people not dying tho?

- Still want her to hit me in the face with the golf club

- And kick me in the face with her boots

- This is also still my favourite mv

- It was so perfect

- This is also quality choreo. I wouldn’t have made it had it seen it right in front of me

- Gay icons

Dress

- Holy fuck dress is so gay

- Like.....we been knew but still

- This song is why she didn’t dare film in Nashville

- The vocals should be illegal

- Like, they’re NSFL (Not Safe For Lesbians)

- The first time she did that (strip tease thing) and the Nashville show were the best ones

Should Have Said No / Bad Blood

- This is still the most fucking random mash up

- I mean it works and redeems bad blood but wtf

- The person sitting on someone else’s shoulders has to really be pissing off someone else who can’t see

- Aggressive banjo

- Can’t believe she puts on a show and sells like this and Borschetta wouldn’t give her the masters. Idiot

- The dudes dangling are braver than any US Marine

- Instead she negotiated for better artist pay AND her future masters. The Legend jumped out

- I remember watching this the first time and being briefly confused because this sort of drawn out thing is what they normally do for show closing but it was too early

Don’t Blame Me

- Oh fuck here we go

- THIS IS MY FAVOURITE TOUR OUTFIT

- PERIOD

- ACCEPT NO SUBSTITUTES

- this entire fucking performance. No words

- I love all the dude dancers had the blinders like headgear. As if such powerful sapphic love is distinctly not for their consumption

- I have found religion

- I stan a queen

Long Live / New Year’s Day

- I love she knows how many people work on the tour and genuinely appreciates their effort

- I hope this mashup sticks around, at least as the surprise song at the closing show of the next tour

- I’m not crying you’re crying

- Hold on to the memories, they/I will hold onto you is one on my favourite lines she’s written

- Along with with please don’t ever become a stranger whose laugh I could recognize anywhere

- Oh my fucking god stop letting her be this precious

- Remember how fucking loud we were in Denver?

- This is my favourite moment of the entire show - for her. You can tell how much it means to her

- She owns my ass and wallet forevermore

- “I had the time of my life....with you” is a whole emotional mood

- Her quick little thank you 😭

Why She Disappeared

- Oh that’s the first time I’ve heard the echos

- Those boots probably cost more than my life

- This should have been the close or open of the getaway car mv

- Imagine if it shows up in an mv next era. Starts with a car on a pink x

Getaway Car

- The 1989 neon is an interesting choice

- Is that the shift to pop being a getaway or the close of the 1989 era being one? (More thoughts on this later)

- Hits you like a shotgun shot to the Heart is a fucking amazing line

- I loved that bit straight away

- I can lowkey see getaway car being about switching labels tbh

- This last album maybe IS the getaway car (more, again, later)

Call It What You Want

- Ciwyw is one on my favourite love songs of hers

- Trust him like NO OTHER was right at her fingertips

- Who the fuck would say no to running away with her?

- I would let her RUN ME OVER, running away WITH her? Fuck yes

We Are Never Ever Getting Back Together / This Is Why We Can't Have Nice Things

- WANEGBT/TIWWCHNT is a brilliant mash up

- But fucking ridiculous to type

- “But I’m not the friend you’ve lost lately” is the shadiest fucking line and I love it

- I’m disappointed we never got video of her recording “cause forgiveness is a nice thing to do”. I can only imagine the sass and snark

- “Taylor the mic is picking up you muttering ‘fucking prick’. You need to record it again.”

- “.....Taylor, muttering ‘backstabbing motherfucker’ isn’t any better. Maybe try it without the muttering?”

- The mouthed “I love you guys” ❤😭

- They’re not showing people collecting confetti? How unrealistic.

- Oh, there they are.

- “The words are all the same over and over again and I know that’s my fault....” still funny as hell

- “What’s a 767?” What’s it like to have that kind of money?

- Will pay to watch Taylor skip through a stadium

In conclusion: Taylor owns me. Kristen puts up with a lot from me. And I can’t wait for the next chapter.

#taylor swift #do any of you care? no. #but i might as well have blown up Kristen's phone for a reason #that was meant to be under a read more the first time

[ts1989fanatic]

The Guide to Getting into Taylor Swift

With the country-turned-pop star's music on Spotify, it's time to cut all your shirts into crop tops and become a Swiftie.

Wow! You're finally open to becoming a Swiftie! Perhaps you're a casual listener and you found your bum wiggling to "Shake It Off" at the grocery store. Perhaps you're that nostalgic person who always sings "Our Song" at karaoke because it reminds you of more innocent times. Perhaps you're a even hardcore hater. Who cares! You're here now.

So what did it take? Her endless charm? Her enviable songwriting talents? Her clever business sense? Or is it because Taylor Swift's entire catalogue just went up on Spotify for free.99? What a cheapskate!

Besides the fact that you can now listen to Taylor Swift without having to navigate her battles with the streaming industry, this is the perfect time to start listening to her music, even if you skipped out on the past five albums. We're currently in the calm before Swift's storm – the time when she's conjuring up a new album that may defy any expectations we have about the country-turned-pop star. Before she inevitably returns to the tabloids, there's a chance to get to know the artist whose work earned that fame, the singer who, at 14, prompted label boss Scott Borchetta of Big Machine to take her on, writing in his notes, "This could be your Mick Jagger." Taylor's fans have long known her as someone who can weave fairytales into everyday life and pastoral romanticism into a regular school day, who can detail relationships with piercing honesty. That kind of music inspires devotion, and this is your chance to feel it.

So, before you dig in, you'll need a Taylor Swift starter pack. Cut all your shirts into crop tops. Write Joni Mitchell lyrics on your arm. Adopt a Scottish fold and name it after a Grey's Anatomy character. Start calling the paparazzi before leaving the apartment. Show up at your friends' houses unexpectedly, offering them Christmas gifts and wondering why they don't cry tears of joy at the mere sight of you. At the very least, join an online forum to talk about her fandom when it hits. Start yearning for Taylor's old country days even though you hate country music! Send a Swift song to your ex instead of messy blocks of texts. Quote her lyrics in therapy. Invest in some quality scarlet-hued lipstick (Nars' Dragon Girl is a decent choice.)

And if you need some help with different entry points into her music, I've got you. Below, there are five options for getting into Taylor Swift. Pick the section that best suits your soul.

So, as Taylor's best friend Selena Gomez (you should know that too) says, if you're ready, come and get it.

So You Want to Get Into: Kiss-Off Bop Taylor Swift?

OK, so you want to get into the feisty side of Taylor Swift. Great choice. Alongside her songs about love, heartbreak, her first day of high school, her mom and Lena Dunham (it's true – "You Are In Love" is about her), there are angsty ditties that take her foes and pie them in the face like the true dunces that they are. This might be the side of Swift you're most familiar with lately, as her feud with Katy Perry has made the 12,000th headline and we're meant to believe that Taylor is on a warpath to punish all her enemies. However, Swift is just like any of us: If she's wronged, she feels a little jaded. And despite serving as a role model to her listeners, she experiences anger like anyone else. But most of us don't have the talent to write songs about them.

Taylor's kiss-off anthems started with "Picture to Burn" (perhaps her best song to this day?), off her debut, self-titled album in 2006, released when she was just 16. "Picture to Burn" has Swift expressing pent-up G-rated aggression with a twang (this is back when she still had a Southern accent, and it's endearing as fuck). She goes one shot under pulling a Carrie Underwood and disses her ex-boyfriend's truck; she threatens to sic her dad on him; she calls him a "redneck." There are all sorts of killer lines in the track ("There's nothing stopping me from going out with alllll of yer best frans!"), but this one's the most poetic and charged: "So watch me strike a match on all my wasted time / As far as I'm concerned you're just another picture to burn." Don't be thrown off by the flutter of banjo and down-home guitars that sound like they're out of a muddy Ford commercial – let the country sound sink in and guide you to revenge.

Since then, Taylor's had dozens of songs that ward off sour critics and ex-boyfriends. Her third album in particular, 2010's Speak Now, is chock full of them. On "Mean" she sheds off her haters who are "Washed up and ranting about the same old bitter things / Drunk and rambling' on about how I can't sing / But all you are is mean." Then she piles it on, calling them "And a liar / And pathetic / And alone in life." Meanwhile, she maintains sweet, kill-em-with-kindness disposition: You'll be glad you never cared about that loser anyway! This side of Taylor is best enjoyed if you like looking cute while rolling your eyes.

Of course, there's "Bad Blood," which, if you pay just a speck of attention to pop culture, you know is about a petty pop star argument. And there's "We Are Never Ever Getting Back Together," which is supposed to send a message to a guy trying to slide back into a relationship – although it comes off more as a mantra for Taylor to chant when she's about to let him back in again. And there's the slightly problematic "Better Than Revenge," where she blasts a girl who's known for her "talents on a mattress."

So if you've been wronged, don't pick up a baseball bat; yank out yer fake country accent and a Zippo, and start lighting stuff on fire!

So You Want to Get Into: Take My Heart And Run It Over With A Rusty Pickup Truck Taylor Swift?

If you've chosen to get into Heartbreak Taylor, you're probably the type who needs time to fully soak into your sadness when you're going through something. You absorb other people's heartbreak too. As a Sagittarius, Taylor is one of these people. (I know nothing about astrology, but I figured you might?)

The beauty about Taylor Swift is that she makes her songs vague enough to where you can imagine yourself in the song – yet she drops in just enough little details so you know the story in the song is hers. It's so easy to apply any of her songs to your life without forgetting her own drama.

Swift's romantic life has been easily mocked for a good ten years now, a topic she satirized in 2014 with "Blank Space" (but more on that later). From age 16 to now, age 27, we've known all of her boyfriends… and by the details she adds in her songs, you can tell which boyfriends inspired which songs: Joe Jonas ("Forever & Always"), Taylor Lautner ("Back to December"), John Mayer ("Dear John"), Harry Styles ("Out of the Woods), etc. By knowing the very real dudes behind the tracks and their very real relationships, Swift songs play out more like movies, where you can envision these celebrities going through the same breakup you might have with your partner. Perhaps the most heartbreaking of these songs is "All Too Well," a song clearly about Jake Gyllenhaal, with references to Swift's scarf, which he was photographed wearing after their breakup.

Red's "All Too Well," like most of Swift's songs about breakups, is crushing. Raise your hand if you've ever met your partner's parents and they start reminiscing about when they were a little kid: "You tell me 'bout your past, thinking your future was me." Or if you've gotten stuck wallowing and it felt like you'd never be happy again: "Time won't fly, it's like I'm paralysed by it / I'd like to be my old self again, but I'm still trying to find it." Or if your ex called you just for old times' sake, just as you were starting to move on: "Hey, you call me up again just to break me like a promise / So casually cruel in the name of being honest." You remember it all too well.

There's something about Swift's sad songs that are like a film you can revisit over and over again, pulling tears from your eyes as if you're experiencing heartbreak for the first time. And it's not just heartbreak – it's grief in general. When you're exploring your way around these gut wrenching songs, don't forget "Ronan," a charity single written for the mom of a child who died of cancer just days before his fourth birthday (that one, unfortunately, is not part of her return to streaming). And "Never Grow Up," which will have you wanting to crawl back into your mom's arms.

Either way, it's best to listen to these when you're alone.

So You Want to Get Into: Fairytale Wedding Day Taylor Swift?

Ready to fall in love, you hopeless romantic? Read up on your Romeo and Juliet. Brush up on Rapunzel. Fall madly in love with the guy who's waiting tables at your favourite cafe. Go all in. Take risks. Ask that guy on a date. Ignore what anyone else says. Go head over heels. Get married (the guy has to propose on one knee and ask your dad for permission, of course). Have babies. Grow old together. Love is a fairytale!!!!!!

Taylor's very aware of her idealistic view on love ("Stupid girl, I should've known / I'm not a princess, this ain't a fairytale," she sings on "White Horse"), especially earlier on in her catalogue. You won't find her singing about dancing in the rain with her angelic-faced crush in her latest album, 1989, or anything in the future, but teenaged Taylor wrote the best love songs back in the day. She's either chasing highs or sinking into lows, and with mythical metaphors abound, she explains that sparkling feeling of falling in love.

You've come to the right place if you're looking for a song to dance to at your wedding. Imagine twinkly lights and barefeet as you twirl around the floor to 2006's "Mary's Song," which follows a seven-year-old girl and her nine-year-old beau as they grow up and get married. Or maybe you want dozens of photos of your family floating from clothesline at your barn wedding, soundtracking the moment with the voracity of 2010's "Mine." Or maybe you're under the moonlight, letting your vintage dress sweep over dewy grass as you dance with your hearts pressed together to "Enchanted."

Swift's love songs give you faith that love can last a lifetime, that you can pull off a medieval princess dress and that kissing in the rain is more magical and euphoric than wet and cold. Even if Prince Charming will never come galloping around on his awkwardly endowed stallion, it's nice – if but for three and a half minutes – to dream.

So You Want to Get Into: Banjo and Fiddle Taylor Swift?

Taylor Swift made the same journey as Shania Twain when it's come to the crossing the country-to-pop bridge – except with Swift, it seems like she's left that bridge far, far behind. With the declaration that she was taking 2014's 1989 fully into pop territory, Swift hasn't looked back, reworking her old country hits when she plays them live and nearly ignoring her especially hoedown-oriented tunes. If you appreciate a good fiddle solo and snarky banjo, I urge you to start at the beginning of her discography.

The self-titled album is a mine of gold country nuggets with excellent lyricism from Swift and sharp production from Nathan Chapman (who had never produced an album until he met Taylor Swift when she was 14). Chapman adorned Swift's green soprano with a bevy of fiddle, which could cry during a song like "Tied Together With A Smile" or frolick with joy during "Our Song." Fiddle is the second singer on Taylor Swift. There's dobro too, etching its earthiness into songs, along with some sparse scatterings of mandolin.

And then there's pedal steel – completely absent after 2014's Red – which swoops in like mood swing, unexpected, yet totally called for. It yearns on "Teardrops on My Guitar," gives sassy support on "Picture to Burn," and calms a bubbling banjo on "The Outside."

Like Swift, who grew up on a Christmas tree farm in Wyomissing, Pennsylvania, before convincing her family to move to Nashville, you might have a small-town upbringing. And just the mere twang of a steel guitar may transcend you to fireflies and summer nights. If you're more familiar with Swift's more recent work, listening to her first album may seem like a novelty, but the progression across the five albums is organic, so don't feel jolted when you hear the rush of country instruments and the mention of country's prince, Tim McGraw, when you take her first bite of Taylor Swift.

Listen to country-era Swift – if not to conjure your own childhood memories, but to get a better understanding of where the pop star started from.

So You Want to Get Into: Storyteller Taylor Swift?

Sit down, music lover, and let Auntie Swift tell you a story. This one's a gripping tale about a girl who shows up at a fancy wedding, ready to interrupt everything and declare her love for the groom. The guy is obviously marrying the wrong woman, who's "wearing a gown shaped like a pastry." And although Taylor is not the kind of person to show up at a "white veil occasion," she, like the title of the 2010 song suggests, is compelled to "Speak Now."

I won't spoil the rest of the story for you, but as you enter the world of Swift for the first time, these storytelling songs might be your best entry point if you like a good narrative. These selections are perfect for long drives, when your mind wanders off the road. Ditch your Audible subscription (does anyone have Audible anyway?) and lean toward the Book of Swift instead. The first chapter dives into Taylor at three years old on "The Best Day," a song she wrote about her mom: "I run and run / Past the pumpkin patch / And the tractor rides / Look now, the sky is gold / I hug your legs / And fall asleep on the way home." The colours are vivid, the memories idyllic, and you can't help but miss your own mom a bit. Of course, some stories make you cry more than others, but with Taylor Swift, it's best to expect tears at all times.

Fast forward eight years to "Blank Space," where she's taken a wholly less innocent form – as a jet-setting maniser who steals her victims' hearts and tortures them with love games. "Saw you there and I thought / 'Oh my God, look at that face / You look like my next mistake'," she sings, as coy as a Black Widow looking for a mate. I won't spoil this one either, but let's just say that this story involves a pretty toxic web.

So, if you're in need of music that will hold you by your hand and take you through a journey, dive into "Love Story," a ditty about a young couple with disapproving parents, or "How You Get The Girl," a step-by-step tutorial on how to win your girlfriend back, or "Fifteen," a story about her friend Abigail's first year of high school, or "Mine," a song about a rando dude who turns into her husband. Whatever chapter you open the book of Taylor to, there's going to be a plot to keep you hooked.

Emilee Lindner was born on a metaphorical Christmas tree farm, and you can find her preaching the good word of Taylor on Twitter.

ts1989fanatic sorry that this so long a post but DAMN it’s worth the read, and I have to think the writer is a SWIFTIE she certainly understands the subject of her piece very well.

[kootenaygoon]

So,

They called it the suicide blanket—the ominous, low-hanging fog that settled over Kootenay Lake and plunged Nelson into a perpetual grey gloom. 

Paisley and I huddled under porch blankets as the trees frosted at the summit of Elephant Mountain, the white descending slowly on to the city. Winter is coming. From the comfy warmth of our little hermitage I watched YouTube theory videos about Game of Thrones and scribbled on my chalkboard wall, creating character lists and fine-tuning a timeline for my ever-evolving thesis manuscript. I wanted it to be composed of multiple interlinking stories, like my favourite novel A Visit from the Goon Squad, but I was constantly swapping out one story for another, never reaching any conclusion. 

While Paisley worked on her desserts I huddled down at my laptop and hammered away at my real work. Journalism was still only a secondary concern in my head, a means to make money until I sold this manuscript and vaulted up into the world of novelists. I sent out excerpts to literary journals, receiving a flurry of rejection letters in response, and tried to ignore the fact that I hadn’t made any legit progress on my fiction since arriving in Nelson. I felt this insistent fear that I wasn’t good enough, that I wasn’t going to live up to my ambitions, while meanwhile Paisley would remind me that we had a pretty nice life and maybe I needed to chill out a bit, okay?

“I don’t think I can go into work today,” I said one morning. “I feel like somebody’s sitting on my chest. I can’t do this.”

“So take a sick day.”

“I don’t have any yet. You have to be an employee for like a year before you start getting them.”

“This is your mental health, Will. Calvin can handle things without you.”

I hesitated.

“Stay home and I’ll take care of you, okay? I don’t have a co-op shift today.”

Around that time I wrote a story for the Star about a music video called “Junkyard Bettie”. It was directed by a local dude named Jonathan Robinson and featured an Aussie singer named Sofiella Watt. She was backed up by her banjo-plucking hipster band the Huckleberry Bandits. Set in an actual junkyard just outside of town, the video told the story of a lonely young traveler struggling to make it through a Canadian winter. Oh, lady winter, you have done me wrong, you’ve done me wrong. Oh dark December, won’t you please be gone, please be gone? Played by Sofiella’s friend Lauren Herraman, the dark-eyed protagonist wanders morosely through a bleak landscape populated by derelict cars, only to discover some friends and end up at a barnyard dance party. When I interviewed Sofiella, she told me the lyrics were a true story she picked up from a housekeeping co-worker at a local hotel. The woman’s boyfriend had left her, her cat went missing, and all her missing posters were rained on and got torn down. 

Then the junkyard dog bit her.

“It was one of those quintessential blues song scenarios where everything goes wrong. I said ‘that’s terrible, but such an amazing story’. I asked her if I could write a song about that, because I could never make up something that good.”

I admired Sofiella’s ability to take a dark experience and create something beautiful out of it, but wasn’t sure how to accomplish that in the Star newsroom. Calvin had found himself embroiled in a number of community conflicts, and his stress level was rubbing off on everyone around him. I made excuses to leave the office when he was upset, setting up interviews across town or just wandering down to the park to take some pictures, because I couldn’t stand being around his energy. Tamara felt the same way, and when he wasn’t around we’d sit commiserating over all the unnecessary drama he’d brought into our lives.

“At the end of the day, you have to take care of yourself. And if Calvin’s negatively affecting your mental health, maybe that’s something you should report to management,” she said.

“I feel like such a whiner.”

“You’re not whining — you’re just expressing your truth.”

“The truth is I think he’s going to quit any day now, and I can’t wait.”

It wasn’t just work getting me down. Though I couldn’t admit it to myself, cannabis had become my primary mental health problem. In Victoria we’d been consuming a little baggie of weed a week, maybe two, while in Nelson we were literally burning through hundreds of dollars’ worth of pre-rolled joints a month.  Was it the solution, or was it the problem? It was like an extra rent payment. Somewhere along the line we started buying pot before groceries, and a few times we ended up with an empty fridge while we waited days for the next paycheck. Sometimes we went begging to our parents. It was our ritual, the way we bonded, watching Pineapple Express and making candy runs to 7-11, but it was also the way we coped with our feelings post-fight, it was how I treated my depression and she treated her pain, and increasingly it was more of a chore than a fun time.

As we started to make friends our age, it became apparent that we weren’t alone. We were surrounded by functional chronics, people who operated in a perma-stoned state, and for many of them cannabis was nearly interchangeable with coffee. Both were something you consumed to tweak your mood and outlook, both lasted a few hours, and both cost around five bucks a hit. I found myself hosting never-ending debates in my head about the benefits and drawbacks of my new lifestyle, trying to weigh what it was costing me against all the benefits I was becoming dependent on. Was my memory worse? Was I less present? Could I really stop smoking if I wanted to? Paisley and I repeatedly made vows to quit, sometimes lasting a few days, but inevitably it crept back into our lives. Whenever her parents visited we had to do a thorough job of hiding the evidence.

“I never would have predicted that I’d become a stoner,” said Paisley. “My whole life I avoided it, never touched it, was never interested. And now it’s got this fucking hold on me.”

“You can’t blame yourself.”

“Watch me.”

Despite this, Paisley’s job at Kootenay Co-op was going well and she was making new friends. Her desserts were generating us a third income, and she was writing recipes and coming up with new culinary innovations all the time. From September to December she was happily busy, walking downtown once a week to practice her burlesque routines at Boob Camp with Charlotte Coco Orchid, and the rest of the time she spent nesting with the dogs and decorating our house. She went out and purchased the costume she was going to need for the upcoming show, then showcased it in our living room before heading out to a photo shoot with the other women. She looked adorable, in clown makeup and fishnet stockings, and I held her in my arms.

“I’ve been thinking,” she said. “Maybe you should be in the show.”

I snorted. “It’s next week.”

“Charlotte’s looking for a male performer to pick up the clothes left on stage between sets. I was thinking about it, and you went to theatre school. You should totally do it.”

“I’m not going to do burlesque.”

“Why not?”

That was a good question. She continued to push the issue until I agreed to talk to Charlotte, and pretty soon I’d been recruited. Paisley took me out shopping for a pair of white “manties”, a baggy Speedo decorated with bright red hearts, then we bought a set of blood-coloured wings that matched the plush bow and arrow I would be carrying. I did love being onstage, and had arguably done more outrageous things in high school, but the concept of prancing around in my underwear in front of a bunch of Kootenay strangers definitely gave me pause. It would be a spectacle. For it to work properly I was going to have to be thoroughly shit-faced, I knew. I worked my way through four or five beers before we even headed down the hill to the show, at the Hume Hotel.

“You’re not allowed to hit on the other girls,” she said. “And don’t be creepy.”

“I won’t be creepy.”

“I mean it.”

“The only one I care about is you, okay?”

Once we arrived in the warm-up room, it was game on. Women were rushing in and out, changing from one costume into another, and some wild-haired dude was giving himself a sponge bath in the sink. Show-tunes and party anthems were blaring from nearby speakers. I met a little person named Cotton Candy and an older burlesque legend named Suzanna Sultry who the women all worshipped. We all posed together for a photo. One of Paisley’s friends took charge of decorating my torso with lipstick, inviting the others to leave kisses from my treasure trail to my collarbone. Don’t be creepy, I reminded myself, as they took turns kneeling in front of me. Over the months that Paisley’d been doing Boob Camp I’d come to know a bunch of them, and a few of us ducked into a back alley to smoke a joint. Upon my return the photographer grabbed me, and said she wanted a few shots of me with Paisley. I turned to her, held her close to my chest, and gave her a gentle kiss as the shutter snapped. Eventually Charlotte gathered everyone into a circle for a pep talk. The topless woman standing across from me was missing one of her nipple tassels, so was clutching her boob with one hand.

“Look at all the power in this room,” Charlotte said. “I am so proud of each and every one of you. You’re going to go out there and blow them away. You’ve done all the hard work, and now you get to reap the reward.”

Standing back-stage clutching a beer, feeling cold sweat collect in my hairline, I wondered if I was about to humiliate myself. There had been no rehearsals, no real instructions. Was I supposed to go out between every number, or just a select few? Was I supposed to dance, and if so, what kind of dance was I supposed to do? There’s a subversive element to burlesque, I knew, and a sense that nothing is sacred and everything is silly. I could get down with that. For her first performance Paisley marched out with the five other women, working her way through an elaborately choreographed sequence that saw the women crawling across the floor, hurling themselves on to their backs and spreading their legs wide. I congratulated her as she came breathlessly off-stage, then kissed her as Charlotte beckoned me forward. I was in bare feet, brandishing my bow and arrow, and upon my entrance the audience roared with approval. I gyrated, spinning around to bend over like a porn star, and frolicked drunkenly as I went searching for the various layers and lacy bits that had been left behind. Charlotte was loudly announcing something into the microphone as I gave the audience a last wink and departed. My back and shoulders were shimmering with sweat, my hair wet against my forehead, my limbs vibrating.

I can’t believe I just did that, I thought.

While the show progressed I stood at a gap in the curtains and looked out at the rowdy crowd, some of them in costumes, who were roaring and shouting for the performers onstage. These are my people, I thought. Charlotte was a champ, commandeering the entire thing while performing multiple sets herself, and Paisley cuddled up beside me. Charlotte chased Cotton Candy around the stage, both of them half-naked, and then a boylesque performer did a leather-clad striptease. I was continuing to drink, and somewhere along the way I’d been forgotten — which I was fine with. I wanted to get back into my real clothes, but that would mean cutting through the parking lot in my underwear. I was just planning my escape when Charlotte introduced Isla Valentine, who was performing her first ever solo set. A milky-skinned brunette, she slinked across the stage and threw herself down on a chair. She smiled languidly at the audience, undoing her bra. Upon release she whipped it into the air triumphantly and flung out her jiggling breasts — dislodging both her pasties, which flew into the audience.

“Oh, shit,” said Paisley, as the crowd gasped. “She must not have glued them right.”

Isla quickly clasped her hands to her nipples, her face furrowed, and for a moment it looked like the number would be over. But as we watched, a look of determination crossed Isla’s face. Fuck it. She dropped her hands, stood up, and continued dancing to elated whoops. Striding from one edge of the stage to the other, she jutted out her hips and whipped back her hair, grinning defiantly.

“Wow, she really went with that,” I said. “Good for her.”

“No, not good for her. She’s going to get Charlotte in trouble. She told us ahead of time: the hotel can get fined for nudity.”

“Really? You think they’ll actually fine Charlotte?”

“They could.”

“It was a mistake! What was she supposed to do?”

Paisley frowned. “You don’t get it.”

The remainder of that evening is a haze, but one memory remains intact: meeting Ryan Martin, the owner of the hotel. I’d heard from multiple people in town that he was an important person to know, a powerhouse in the business community, but we hadn’t crossed paths yet. While I padded along the carpet coming back from the bar, double-fisting and still in my underwear, I nearly bowled him over coming around a corner. As soon as I realized who he was I was embarrassed, and felt like I needed to explain myself. Nearly naked, with lipstick smeared all over my stomach and the crimson wings drooping over my shoulders, I knew I was something of a radical sight. I stammered out that I don’t actually drink that much, told him this wasn’t usual behaviour for me. He grinned and clapped me on the shoulder.

“Don’t worry about it,” he said. “This is the Kootenays.”

The Kootenay Goon