OUTSIDE, TORONTO TURNS FROM SEPTEMBER TO EARLY October and everything is bathed in yellowish-green-soon-to-be-red-and-brown-and-then-dead hues.
I think about $isi obsessively. Today, I’ve been thinking how I met her. She sent a demo of herself singing an Amy Winehouse song. She was raw and young and strange, but there was something to her that made me look twice, made me listen to the demo and then made me replay it twice more.
She was a serious girl in that video, with a pale face and a big nose and lips that were too big even for the nose. She wasn’t plain. She wasn’t like the girls I sleep with. She was jolie laide – an ugly beauty: a face of too many wrong angles and a smile that could fix everything in a flash.
She excited me like no one else excited me before – it wasn’t s****l, a
