speaking of fragmentary anecdotes, last night was almost the perfect intersection of radical and twee, and I bet you’d have liked it. I went to a queer slowdance, complete with dance cards, streamers, balloons, a photobooth, a proliferation of sequins and combat boots, and places to write your missed connections on the wall it was in the dingy basement of a feminist/anarchist punk venue and collective home called (fittingly) the decadent squalor quotes from squalor missed connections: “I didn’t talk to you but I could tell you had really good politics.” “I really dig your tumblr.” “Your asymmetrical haircut and vintage glasses look hot.” (funny bcuz these all describe almost everyone there) also danced with friends, cuties, cutie friends; kissed a radical librarian; talked to a stranger about how great karaj’s tumblr is; went for 4 am poutine; made brunch and talked witchcraft and watched cute cat videos with sweethearts the next morning; and slid home on the ice in my thrift store heels day two of my birthday week complete! parties are so nice without grossly forward sexists, shitty comments, and expensive cover charges. I was worried that visiting new york had made montreal seem insignificant in comparison, but I’m being won over to this city’s charms. now if only winter cycling wasn’t so brutal here.