“On Wednesday morning, the public got their first glimpse of disgraced CBC radio host Jian Ghomeshi– who is charged with five criminal offences including sexual assault and choking–as he appeared at a downtown Toronto courthouse.

What are sex criminals wearing this season?

Well, foregoing his signature, I’m-old-but-a-downtown-scenester-who-likes-beating-women-rock-guy style, Ghomeshi went with a black suit, crisp white shirt and subtly pattered dark tie. Standing beside his fearless and brilliant lawyer, Marie Henin, who was smartly turned-out in black with a lurid splash of lipstick across her face, the pair looked evil and powerful, like they had mastered the dark arts and were taking the charges very seriously.

Ghomeshi, who typically sports a youthful, mop of dyed hair that suggested the gentle innocence of a Muppet to his victims, had trimmed it, a clear attempt to convey to the court that he was a serious man, a full grown predator and that these women would have understood that, via his hair, and thus implicitly consented to being attacked by him. His signature five-o’clock-shadow, a reminder of his love and violent fantasies surrounding the sleazy 1980’s TV show Miami Vice, was gone, once again suggesting that he was a powerful, business-savvy man of violent and criminal action. “Think Christian Grey, not Ted Bundy, “ Mr. Ghomeshi’s stubble-free face declares.

By not wearing a bloodstained white shirt, Ghomeshi and his legal team are sending a clear message to the courts that he is not always beating women for his own twisted sexual gratification,  but is often taking time to try to plot some form of consent from his victims, usually while setting up his video camera and arranging his other props. The tie, dark and respectful, but with a subtle pattern, is a clear indicator of the BDSM interior of Ghomeshi, a bold statement of his violent intentions that not even the most drugged, intoxicated or star-struck woman could possibly have misunderstood.

In court we see that Ghomeshi has decided to eschew the tie and go for a more casual, you’re-relaxed-and-in-my-lair-and-I’m-showing-you-my-record-collection vibe. He’s showing the court that he’s their friend, the voice that they allowed into their home, bedroom, kitchen and bathroom for so many years, and that their relationship is now so intimate that the obvious next step is to introduce a startling, brutally violent, dangerous and one-sided sexual component into their life together.

With Ghomeshi, the safe word is always “style.” “

Here are some excerpts from my journal:

Day 4:

I feel angry.

I don’t believe that there was ever an Alpha male on this planet who stood up at a dinner party and said, “I’m sorry, but I have some dietary restrictions. Is there any wheat, dairy or gluten in any of the food you’re serving? Oh, okay. No worries, I have some carrots in a baggie over here. By the way, we march on Rome at dawn!”

Colour: The green/black of a tornado sky.

Day 7:

Last night I had a dream that actress Jennifer Lawrence and I were living together and I barked at her for brushing her hair too loudly. I woke up angry and ashamed, feelings that have stayed with me all day.

I learned something new today while watching the Stanley Cup finals with some buddies, and that is that beer is a gluten-saturated beverage. I hardly ever drink beer but I was completely demoralized to find out I can’t drink it, or eat the fucking nachos and burgers that everybody else was devouring with ease and relish.

I felt left out and got drunk on gluten-free vodka.

I also got in my first fistfight since grade five.

I hope it wasn’t captured on video as it turns out I cannot take a good slap.

Colour: Colour coding my days is stupid.

Day 9:

My Instagrammed dinner:

I am now eating colours instead of food.

Colour: Fuck you.

Day 14:

Fuck Montreal.

Fuck Montreal in the ear hole.

I just cancelled the trip we were planning on taking there for Rachelle’s birthday. I don’t want to go on a trip that’s defined by all the perfectly crafted, delicious foods I’m not allowed to eat. If I can’t have a croissant or smoked meat sandwich, then Rachelle doesn’t need a birthday. I have put my foot down.

Colour: A confident, furious black

Day 16:

It’s nice being back in Montreal and it was both thoughtless and selfish of me to try to cancel our trip because of my dietary restrictions. Just because I can’t have a smoked meat sandwich doesn’t mean that Rachelle shouldn’t enjoy one in front of me! And hey, she should go right ahead and flirt with that beautiful man in that saucy hat! He’s leaning against an awfully nice looking car! I bet it’s worth more than a house! Happy birthday, Rachelle, don’t mind me, I’ll just sit here in my gluten-free corner!

Colour: I am interested in trying crack cocaine.