the story that keeps on writing.

the last time you saw her, her hands were wrapped around fire.

I got to play with clay today. Also: contributing to society.

I have a crush on Swiss Grrl Ramones with a Sax.

Almost finished reading Walden again-- am putting off the last bit. Being in between Walden is almost better than reading it.

Beloved roommate Misun off to Korea again after returning from Europe and spending >48 hours in Toronto, frantically trying to meet all her friends one. last. time. If you are ever in the position of long goodbyes, promise me, promise yourself: do not give yourself less than three days to do it. It looked pretty stressful. And shitty, esp. when she figured out the flight left at 7am, not pm.
Now go to a mirror, and promise yourself: am, pm: these things are different.

Last time Misun left, we were stuffing ourselves into photo booths at every subway stop. Flight was delayed five hours: the man gave her $12 for an airport meal. Naturally we spent it all on coffee. Then spent time reshuffling the airport paperback displays: quality control. Put Donald Trump's screed in the 'Fascism' Section, emphasize the memoirs of Gabriel Garcia Marquez (sic.)

Security in High Park is surprisingly strident at 11 in the evening.
When a boy needs to walk alone, he probably means it.

When you spend three hours in a doctor's waiting room, society's things are probably fucked.

Spent four days into a 'project', as I call them: four days learning to solder. Now my bass guitar has a switch. The next 'project' beckons, but what? bike? bookshelf?

This is all I've recalled of the past two weeks, now more:
I'm routinely in situations where being poor makes me feel awkward. In on the other side of grubby windows.
I spend a lot of time wondering if I'm content.
There has been no writing for awhile now: it's been gone before; matter of course. But I'm sitting, reading a magazine, waiting for it: ______________. yeah, exactly.
also: i'm visiting Vancouver sometime this month. So that's nice. Montreal in May.
Dreams, when they come, are of travelling.